Issues
by SLynn
Summary: A year after being diagnosed with leukemia, on the road to remission, Greg’s finally passed all his tests and is ready to be a fully trained CSI. However, things are no longer going so well. Sequel to Happy Enough. COMPLETE!
1. Better Days

**Issues by SLynn**

**Summary:** A year after being diagnosed with leukemia, on the road to remission, Greg's finally passed all his tests and is ready to be a fully trained CSI. However, his first case involves him more closely then he'd like considering he's a suspect.

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Notes:** Well, here goes the second story in a row for a show I'd never intended to write about. I hope you enjoy it. This is a follow-up to 'Happy Enough' which you may want to read first, but I'll try to play catch up in this first chapter.

**Chapter 1: Better Days **

Greg was having a very good week. He was finally, finally fully trained to do his job. It had taken a lot longer then normal, but considering the circumstances no one objected. In the year since he'd been promoted to CSI Level One, Greg had been diagnosed with leukemia, hospitalized twice, had two bone marrow transplants and one minor case of pneumonia. It had been a busy year.

He'd just gotten back from his doctor's appointment and Dr. Tracey had been pleased. She said he'd looked good and more importantly his last bone marrow test had come back clean. It was the second in a row. One more and he was officially in remission, but Greg tried not to get too excited. A month earlier he'd had a clean marrow reading, only to end up disappointed the next time round. The little voice in the back of his head kept insisting that this time was different, this time it hadn't just been one test, but he quelled it quickly. Sara however, was not so easy to quiet.

She was really excited. For once it had been her trying to talk him into calling in sick so that they could go out together. But he wouldn't do it. Not tonight. Tonight was his first official night not in training and he hadn't been in in two days. They both had Friday night off; they could celebrate in three days. Instead, she made lasagna. Tofu lasagna. Greg had thanked her, smiled and ate everything on his plate but passed on seconds. Sara and her vegetarianism was a minor hiccup in an otherwise good relationship. Since starting chemotherapy Greg hadn't been eating much meat to begin with, but he still liked it. Now the only chance he got to eat it was when they weren't on shift together.

Not that he was complaining. Sara was the best thing that had happened to him, despite how it came about. They did have problems and had fought on several occasions, but their fights never lasted more then a day. Most of them revolved around work, he'd learned early that just because they were sleeping together didn't mean she wouldn't call him out on his mistakes. He'd gotten over it quickly, knowing she only wanted him to do his best, but sometimes it still stung. They'd decided early on to keep their private lives just that. If people found out, so be it, but they weren't going to advertise. In little over seven months since they'd been together only two people had put two and two together, Nick and Amy.

Nick had figured it out when Greg caught pneumonia, not long after they'd started officially seeing each other. Greg had got pretty sick and had to be hospitalized, it was lucky Sara had been there as he'd ended up passing out in the shower. After calling 911 and the ride to the hospital, she'd phoned Nick. She'd been so discomposed that if she hadn't told him right then and there, he'd of guessed it anyways. Nick never gave them away, but did give them hell about it.

Amy finding out was a complete accident. Sara had become friendlier with her after finally realizing that there was never anything happening between Amy and Greg, but they were hardly best friends. Amy noticed the difference and accepted it without explanation. It all made sense to her after the fact. Normally Greg and Sara didn't show any affection to each other at work, but after a case that had been particularly bad they'd snuck up on the roof to regroup. Amy had seen them leave together, assumed only they were discussing the case, and having some good news about who the killer was had gone up to tell them. She'd been shocked to find them kissing, but only before embarrassment set in. She never talked about it openly with Sara, but was happy on Greg's account. That was three months ago.

Greg had told his parents, Maggie and Jeff, fairly early on about him and Sara. She'd been reluctant for him to do so but he had a hard time keeping things from them. They both respected their decision not to tell their co-workers by the large and in the times they'd visited had yet to betray them.

Sara however had not told her parents. Greg had thought it was odd that she never spoke about them, but knew not everyone had as strong of a relationship as he did with his own parents. He never pressured her to tell him things because gradually she would anyway, just like he would with her. They didn't have some great big heart-to-heart conversation about all the good and bad things that had happened in their lives. It was more like every day they found another piece to the puzzle.

Greg made it into work on time, but barely. There had been a fender-bender near his exit on the interstate causing a delay. He wasn't even down the hall before Nick ran up to him.

"And?" he asked knowing Greg knew exactly what he meant.

"Hello?" Greg responded, opting to play dumb.

"Come on man, what were the results? I called your place but you must have just left. It was clean wasn't it?"

"Yes, yes it was."

"I knew it," Nick said loudly, causing one of the temporary techs to jump.

"Could you keep it down some? I'm trying to not get too excited. I've got one tap left and then the rest of my life to worry about it."

Greg had tried to sound skeptical, but had failed miserably.

"You shouldn't have come in tonight," Nick continued on with him towards the break room, "I wouldn't have. You and Sara could have gone out, she's off tonight right?"

"Yes she is and could you please keep it down?" This time the agitation in his voice had been real.

"I don't know why you two are being this way," Nick said seriously. "No one cares and it isn't that big of a deal."

"We care, so yes it is."

"Care about what?" Warrick asked. Nick and Greg had rounded the corner into the break room as they'd been speaking.

"You," Nick said trying to cover up what had been his mistake in the first place. "We care about you so it's important."

Warrick didn't look like he'd bought it but chalked it up to Nick and Greg being Nick and Greg.

"Are the results in yet?" Warrick asked Greg.

"Yes," he nodded, now unable to keep the smile off his face.

"Good news then?"

"One more to go."

"Excellent," Warrick answered, really happy to hear it. Greg had been working with Warrick for close to a year and they'd gotten to become better friends because of it. He use to have a hard time handling Greg's manic moods, he was just too hyper, but he found that he really wasn't as bad as he'd always assumed. He did get a little crazy with too much caffeine and not enough work to occupy his full attention, but that hardly ever happened now that he was working cases full time.

Catherine arrived with Gil and had no time to ask Greg the news. Instead she threw him an inquisitive glance to which he returned a thumbs up. Catherine smiled brilliantly back at him in response.

"Sorry I'm late," Grissom said getting straight to business. "I'm going to make this quick. I just got off the phone with Brass; there's been a murder in Summerlin. We're not sure what we've got exactly, we'll know more on scene. Nick and Greg, I'm making you two lead on this. Catherine and Warrick will second. I'm going with you to the scene for recovery. Questions?"

It was the shortest staff meeting they'd had in a long time. No one wasted any time getting to the SUVs.

"You're never going to let me drive, are you?" Greg asked as once more he was confined to the passengers' seat.

"I told you, if you'd get here first I'd let you drive."

"Well, I don't know what worm hole you go through that magically transports you from the locker room to the garage, but one day I'm going to find it."

Nick laughed. Greg had actually been getting pretty close to the truth with that statement. Of course, it wasn't a worm hole just a back door. He figured if Greg hadn't found it already, he never would and the look on Greg's face when he'd find Nick in the truck knowing he'd left he locker room first was always good for a laugh.

"Laugh all you want, but one day Sara's going to tell me. Someone's going to tell me how you do it."

"Sara won't tell you because then she'd have to let you drive too."

"I don't mind her driving; it's yours I have a problem with."

"That's not good Greggo. You are starting to sound like a kept man."

"Hey, I'm not complaining. If she wants to take charge…"

"Ground rules Sanders, remember the ground rules," Nick said loudly drowning him out. "I'm okay with you two as long as I don't have to know the details."

Greg just laughed. He'd discovered not to long ago that he could keep Nick off his back about Sara and him if he even hinted around the more intimate aspects of it.

"God, she's like a sister to me," Nick continued trying to shrug it off. "And you're like a brother, so you can imagine how incestuous the whole thing feels."

"Oh, now you've got to stop," Greg cut in. "It's not incest. I wouldn't say anything like that to you if you were dating someone from work."

"Okay, imagine me and Catherine."

Greg pulled a face that made Nick roll with laughter.

"Okay, Catherine's beautiful and I have nothing against her personally, but I've told you like a thousand times she reminds me of my mom. So instead of you and Catherine, my sick brain jumps straight to you and my mom and now you've ruined sex for me. That and I may have to kick your ass later."

Nick continued to laugh as they pulled up to the scene.

"Okay, time to be serious."

"Yeah," Greg said taking in the view. It was nice home, now completely surrounded with cop cars and crime scene tape.

"Ready for your first walk thru?" Nick asked him as they got their things together.

"Seriously, I'm going first?"

"Why not? You're fully qualified now. I'll be right behind you. Grissom will probably be watching your every move."

"Very reassuring."

"If nothing else, that's what I'm here for."

"Okay," Greg said taking a deep breath. "Let's get going then."


	2. Liar

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Chapter 2: Liar**

Greg and Nick were the first ones there after Grissom. Grissom was chatting up Brass, getting details but had not gone in before them.

They stood back a respectable distance, waiting for the word go, but not far enough away to miss the last bit of conversation.

"I'm not questioning his ability," Brass was saying, his back to them, "I'm just saying that it's not something he's seen before. I'm going to have nightmares about this one."

"He'll be fine," Grissom replied and then as if he'd sensed their presence, turned round. "Ready?"

Brass turned too, a bit startled to see them so close. He only looked at Nick. Greg, as if he hadn't guessed, knew they'd been talking about him.

"Who's in first?" Grissom asked.

Greg held up a hand, before ducking under the crime scene tape. Nick was right after him, followed closely by Grissom. Greg had already begun to have doubts. If Brass, who had seen a lot of things, thought this one was tough, maybe he shouldn't be leading.

He stopped upon entering the house, trying to do as he was taught and take a mental picture. The room was lit with candles, but otherwise dark.

"Should we go straight for the victim or do this room first?" he'd asked reflexively.

"Your call," Nick replied refusing him the easy out. It was nerves and Greg had to beat them.

"Let's go see then," Greg said taking a deep breath and traveling the obvious route straight through to the back.

Again, Greg hesitated at the door. He wasn't sure if he was really ready for this, but reasoned that it was better just do it quickly. Like ripping off a band-aid.

He took in another deep breath and opened the door. Another second and Nick would have poked him in the back urging him on. He knew Brass had freaked Greg out a bit, but he usually wasn't this nervous.

The scene before them wasn't like any they'd seen before. There was a woman, most definitely dead and obviously posed on the mattress. She was laid out so that her head just rested off of the mattress at the foot of the bed. Her arms were spread out beside her, palms up, legs lined up straight back towards the headboard and she was completely naked. She looked like an inverted cross.

The bed itself was completely stripped except for the bottom sheet. The woman's face was hard to see, covered with blood. There was so much blood that it ran through her long dark hair and pooled onto the floor beneath her. Her throat had been slit, evenly without so much as a hesitation mark and she had something stuffed into her mouth. Carved into her torso was a single word. 'LIAR'.

Greg was in shock. He'd forgotten momentarily that technically he was supposed to be handing out jobs, but he couldn't do it. All he could do was stare.

"I'll start taking some photos," Nick said finally. It had taken him more then a minute to react as well.

"What do you see?" Grissom asked him quietly as Nick began to photograph the room.

"He opened her eyes."

Grissom nodded, surprised he'd caught that. The woman's eyes were the only part of her face not covered in blood. The killer would had have to of stuck around, waited for her to bleed out and then opened her eyes, otherwise they too would be covered in blood.

Greg still hadn't moved.

"You okay?" he asked, now feeling some concern. Greg had never froze completely on a scene before. This was bad, this was almost as bad as it could get, but after all this time he'd expected Greg to struggle more to compose himself.

After a few more seconds, he just barely caught Greg gently shake his head from side to side. 'No.' He wasn't okay.

Grissom gently tugged on his arm, but even then it took him a minute to move. He got him out of the house at about the same time Catherine and Warrick arrived. Catherine started to ask Grissom what had happened, but stopped short as he motioned her forward. Greg hadn't even seen them.

He got him out to the car, asked if he'd be fine and left after hearing, albeit a bit dazed that he would. Greg stayed there until they'd finished. Nick came out carrying both their cases; Greg had left his behind without realizing. They didn't say anything to each other on the ride back.

Once there, Greg went straight to Grissom's office and waited.

After an hour more, Grissom returned. He wasn't surprised to find Greg there, although he'd hoped he'd gone home. Greg still looked like he was in shock.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Grissom asked, unsure really why he was there. Greg usually talked about these things to Nick or Warrick, Sara even, not him.

"I know her."

This was news.

"How?"

"I know her," he said again as if he didn't really believe it himself.

"Greg, how do you know her?"

"She's my psychiatrist. Dr. Sanchez. I see her every week, twice. I know her Grissom."

"She's the lead for your group therapy?"

Greg was stuck. He looked up at Grissom just like a deer in headlights. He'd never told him. He'd never told anyone, not even Sara. He was still embarrassed by it, by needing that much help.

"No," he finally managed, "not group therapy. Not cancer support, real no kidding psychiatry."

"For how long now?"

"Eight months."

"Are you on medication?" Grissom asked and then realized he wasn't sure he wanted an answer.

"Elavil," he answered flatly. There was no point lying about it. Especially now.

Grissom had heard of it and thought it might be used for manic-depressives, but knew that it wasn't his place to ask.

"Does anyone else know about this?" he asked, getting back to the subject at hand.

Greg shook his head, looking at his hands which he had clasped together in his lap.

"I want you to take the rest of the night off. Get a ride home from Nick. You're both off of this case."

Greg stood to go.

"Wait a minute," Grissom called before he could leave. Greg walked back over, but didn't sit down.

"I'm going to have to put this in the report. Greg, you should have told me this sooner."

"I know."

Grissom nodded and Greg took that as his queue to leave. Instead of trying to find Nick right away, he'd instead made straight for the bathroom. He'd barely made it before throwing up most of his dinner. He couldn't get the image out of his head. Dr. Sanchez, sweet and caring, dead. Worse then dead, defiled.

Greg made his way to the sink and ran the cold water. Splashing his face several times, he held on to the sides and tried to force the image from his brain. Nothing worked.

After a fifteen minutes Nick found him there, still at the sink.

"You okay?" he asked.

Again, Greg just shook his head.

"I called Sara, said I'd be bringing you home soon."

"Thanks."

"No problem. You think you can make it?"

"Yeah, I'll…"

Greg didn't even make it through the sentence before he was back at the toilet throwing up the other half of his dinner. Nick said nothing, just waited. After another ten minutes, Greg had re-washed his face and indicated it was time to leave.

Again, the ride was quiet.

"Hey," Nick said as they pulled up to Greg's apartment. "If you need to talk about this, let me know. I mean, if you can't tell Sara."

"Thanks," Greg said, still looking pale. "I may take you up on that."

"Do," he said as Greg got out of the car. He watched until he got inside before taking off. Sara had met him at the door.

"Are you okay?" she asked pulling him inside. "Nick told me about the case. What happened?"

Greg had probably been dreading this most of all.

"There are some things I have to tell you first," he said sitting down on the couch.

"Like what?" she asked, growing concerned.

"Things you're not going to like. Things I've kept from you. I just, I know you're going to be mad at me and you'll be completely right but can we just have the fight tomorrow?"

"Greg, you're really scaring me now."

"Promise me," he practically pleaded, "just promise me that tonight you won't get upset. I'm not going to make it till tomorrow if you get upset now. If you leave now."

"I don't understand what this has to do with the case."

"You will, but please Sara…."

"I promise then. I won't get mad tonight."

Greg took in a deep breath, relieved. He needed her with him tonight, even if it was for the last time. He was afraid that after what he had to say it would be. He just hoped she'd keep her word.

"Sara," he began still a bit shakily, "I've been lying to you."


	3. Dreams

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Chapter 3: Dreams**

As soon as Grissom knew that Nick had left to take Greg home he pulled Catherine and Warrick into his office.

"Greg was pretty shaken tonight," Catherine started conversationally enough "I hope you didn't berate him too much."

"No," Grissom said as he closed the door behind them and walked back over to his desk "But that is what this is about. I'm putting you two as lead on this case. Greg and Nick are both off of it."

"Griss," Warrick started "he can do it. You don't have to worry. I was freaked out at that scene but Greg will pull through, give him a chance."

"I have no doubts that normally he would."

"What do you mean normally?" Catherine asked.

"This goes no further then this room. I'm telling you this only because you're going to find out during the course of the investigation and for no other reason."

He now had their complete undivided attention.

"Greg knew the victim."

"Oh," Catherine let out, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. She couldn't imagine it. It had been hard enough to see, but to think if it had been an acquaintance, a friend, maybe more then that. She just couldn't imagine. "I've never…"

"Because he's never told any of us. The victim, Laura Sanchez, is Dr. Laura Sanchez. He's been having regular sessions with her for eight months."

"Cancer specialist?" Warrick asked hopefully. 'Sessions' didn't sound like a word Grissom would use in place of appointment.

"Psychiatrist."

"And you didn't know?" Catherine asked, feeling the weight of the situation.

Grissom shook his head.

"He told you just now, tonight?" Warrick asked again, this time less hopeful.

This time he nodded.

"Well, you can't fire him," Catherine started.

"It's not my decision."

"How serious is this? I mean, I know he should have told you sooner, but they'll have to cut him some slack, right? Look what he's been going through." Warrick continued to question.

"That's for a review board to decide."

"Did you tell him there would be a review board?" Catherine asked, knowing the answer.

"No. I don't think he realized how serious his confession was."

"You don't have to report it," Warrick suggested. "I mean this and his attempt last year, it's not going to look good. They're not going to let him back out in the field with a gun if they think he's still suicidal."

"Just because he's seeing a therapist doesn't mean he's suicidal," Catherine defended.

Grissom and Warrick wanted to agree with her, but couldn't.

"I have to report it," Grissom said flatly. "It's going to come up anyways; it should count in his favor that he at least told me now instead of staying on the case."

"But it might now come up," Catherine argued.

"No, this murder was personal. Someone went through a lot of effort, had some real issues with Dr. Sanchez. The obvious place to start looking for who are her patients."

"Please tell me you don't think…"

"Of course I don't think Greg was involved," Grissom interrupted Warrick before he could finish the thought himself "but I want him ruled out immediately. I don't want anyone else thinking it. As soon as Al nails down a time of death I want you two to get Greg's alibi down for the record."

They both nodded in agreement.

"I'm calling him in early tomorrow; you can talk to him when I'm done."

* * *

Sara had been shocked.

She'd listened intently to what Greg had told her. How he'd been seeing Dr. Sanchez twice a week for around eight months. That he was still on anti-depressants and that Dr. Sanchez thought that it wasn't just the chemotherapy. She was treating him as bipolar.

None of it had been easy to hear but she'd listened and kept quiet. She'd kept her word and hadn't argued or confronted him about it in any way. Obviously he was going some where with this and they'd have time later to talk it through. Or yell, because it did make her angry.

Sara had listened and couldn't help thinking that Greg didn't trust her. That he'd been telling a stranger more about his life then he'd told her. She might have taken the news better if he had been sleeping with her. Sex she understood. It was a physical need, a biological need. This smacked more of betrayal because it wasn't about that. It was about emotion and feeling. It was about something intangible and that much more mysterious. Over and over she wondered what they had talked about, what he could tell this other woman that he couldn't tell her.

All of her initial feelings of hurt and jealousy quickly gave way when Greg told her about that night. Dr. Sanchez had been murdered and he could still see it in his head. He'd doubted he'd ever get the image out of his head. Sara had done everything she could to calm him and comfort him, eventually getting him to agree upon rest, but it hadn't been easy. And she certainly wasn't going to sleep that night.

Instead, after she was certain he'd finally dozed off, she lay awake and thought it all over.

Sara was beginning to think there were a lot of things she didn't know about Greg. True, he'd never been called shy but that didn't mean anything. Greg talked, but not about things that mattered. In the time they'd been together, they'd had maybe three real conversations about serious issues. Not that she pressed for these talks herself, in a lot of ways they were more alike then she'd ever thought. Withdrawn or reclusive, either word could accurately describe them both. The difference was he was better at hiding it then she was. Much better.

He'd only slept for about two hours fitfully before he jerked out of slumber.

"Sara?" Greg called out loudly, sitting upright and searching the room.

"I'm right here," she answered, touching his arm gently. Despite not sleeping herself, she had turned off the lights.

Greg took her hand in both of his and brought it quickly to his lips before swinging his long legs onto the floor.

"You okay?" she asked, crawling up behind him and rubbing his back. He sat there for a moment, head in hands, elbows on knees.

"Yeah, fine. I'm going to get something to drink."

Sara watched in silence as he left the room, wondering not for the first time that evening exactly what Greg was thinking.

In the bathroom, Greg ran the cold water and splashed it on his face. He'd expected nightmares. Knew they'd happen he just hadn't expected them to be so bad. Greg had never had vivid dreams before, even when he was sick or scared. But tonight he had and they'd seemed so real. Too real.

He hadn't even thought sleep would be possible that night, but somehow it had taken him. Greg had felt a little better telling Sara the truth. Lying wasn't something he was good at, but technically he hadn't really lied to her. She knew he was going to appointments all those times, she'd just assumed it was group therapy. Greg had never corrected that false notion. And as for the anti-depressants, well with all the drugs he was already on, she'd probably never noticed the additional bottle and that wasn't the sort of thing you discussed.

Greg knew he was rationalizing, trying to build up a defense in his head for the fight that would come. None of it sounded good enough even to him, what would she say? Sara had been true to her word, heard him out and held off, but he could feel the tension.

He continued to splash the water on his face as the nightmare resurfaced fresh in his mind. As he rubbed the palms of his hands across his eyes in a desperate attempt to make it stop, but it wouldn't. It was so clear. Like reliving it but only worse.

Worse because this time as he walked through the house he was alone. It was still lit with candles, but now he could smell them. He hadn't placed it at the time, maybe hadn't really smelt them at all, but now the room smelled like sandalwood. Dark and foreboding.

In his dream Greg found himself slowly propelled towards that room. He hadn't wanted to go, every part of him screamed out against it, but still he went. He stood in front of it for what could have been eons, hand on doorknob, waiting.

When he finally did open it the room before him was just like he'd seen except there was no blood. There was no blood and it was no longer Dr. Sanchez. It was Sara.

He'd screamed, knew he had, upon waking up and now he was still fighting off that image a hundred times worse then the real thing.

Greg stood at the sink, trying to keep from shaking. Trying to keep from vomiting again. Not wanting to leave.

It was tomorrow. She'd promised him till now. They were both awake, they'd made it through the night and now she'd want to talk. Sara would want explanations. Answers he probably couldn't give because he didn't know them himself.

He should have told her long before now. Now it was too late. Now he was going to lose her and he didn't think he could take that. Just like the dream, it scared him.

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews! This is off to a semi-slow start. A few notes about 'Happy' – Greg and Sara were not supposed to be an official couple for this story. They were supposed to be together, much like they had been throughout that story, but not actually together. When I started the last chapter I knew how it should end, but then mid-way through there was a fight. There was no avoiding the fight, it almost wrote itself, but I knew because of it they would either have to break it off completely or finally decide to take a chance. I said before that I did have her walking out for good, but that would have left this story in a big mess. As you're going to see in a few chapters, their relationship is going to play a bigger part in this story.


	4. Conversations

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Chapter 4: Conversations**

Sara was getting worried. Greg had been in the bathroom a long time, half an hour at least. Instead of going to the door, checking on him, she made the bed and wandered into the kitchen. It wasn't even five o'clock yet but Sara started the coffee pot. She was certain when Greg did reemerge he wouldn't be sleeping. Just as it finished brewing he appeared. Sara handed him a mug which he thanked her for before sitting down. She joined him at the table ready to begin.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

"Which part?"

"The nightmare."

Greg shook his head vigorously, looking into his mug before taking a drink.

"Why were you seeing a psychiatrist?" she asked and mentally added 'and couldn't tell me.'

"Dr. Tracey suggested it. She thought that I needed some extra help. It was just after I'd gotten out of the hospital and I was acting kind of moody."

"Kind of," she repeated. She'd remembered it well. Those days you didn't know which Greg you were going to meet; nice, sweet normal Greg or vicious temper, mean-spirited Greg. It hadn't been fun for anyone.

"She set up the sessions with Dr. Sanchez. She had interned with Dr. Tracey one summer before she decided to become a psychiatrist. God, she probably doesn't even know yet."

"When did you start taking medication?" she asked cautiously. Greg still looked shaken and she wasn't looking to fight with him. Sara was angry and upset, confused even but she cared. He was hurting and she still cared for him.

"Not long after I started sessions. I told you what she thought, probably wouldn't surprise most people, me being me. She said it wasn't actually that unusual, that I was probably more manic then depressed but it was still bipolar. The chemo was just speeding up the cycles."

"So you've been depressed before this, seriously depressed?"

"Couple times in college, yeah. Never like I was this last time, but pretty bad."

It was completely new to her. She hadn't even considered that he'd ever acted this way before. That it was more then the drug treatment he was currently on just affecting him. She wanted to ask how bad 'pretty bad' was, but didn't.

They sat in silence, both sipping coffee and avoiding looking at each other.

"Did you talk…" she started, but couldn't bring herself to finish.

"About you?" he guessed.

Sara nodded. She knew she didn't really have a right to know, but wanted to.

"Yeah, I did. I talked about a lot of things."

"Things you couldn't tell me."

Greg finally looked at her, tried to meet her eye but she wasn't going to let him.

"It's not like that Sara."

"Yes, it is."

"No," he pleaded. "It's not like I told her these things because I didn't think you'd understand them. I talked to her because it was easier. I didn't owe her anything and all she wanted from me was honesty. She didn't expect me to be a certain way, so I didn't have to."

"I've never wanted you to be anyone but who you are."

"But what if I don't know who I am?"

"Greg…"

"I just feel like I'm always acting a part. Like I've got to be one way or another all the time. Like if I let my guard down people wont like me."

Sara didn't know what to say. She'd never expected this.

"I didn't tell you about this because I thought," he continued, stopped and then started again "I thought you'd think I was weak. That you wouldn't want me."

"That's not true."

"I couldn't tell you. I couldn't tell anyone."

"Wait," Sara said, her voice growing more serious "You didn't tell anyone? Not even Grissom?"

"If I didn't tell you what makes you think I'd tell him?" Greg asked confused.

"Ever?"

"Last night I did. I had too. I knew her, I couldn't process the scene."

Greg continued to stare at Sara who appeared deep in thought and deeply worried.

"What?" he asked.

* * *

Greg got to work an hour early. Grissom had called and asked him too, but even if he hadn't Greg would have.

Sara had told him. Explained it. He'd screwed up. Big.

He really hadn't known. Hadn't known that it was policy to inform your supervisor of any thing deemed a mental health issue. Greg should have guessed it, given that he was issued a gun, but it really hadn't occurred to him. Hell, he'd probably been briefed it but just let it slip his mind. That and having been a lab tech for so long he'd never had any kind of stipulation like that put on him before.

He didn't know how far pleading ignorance would go, but he'd have to try it.

Grissom was waiting for him when he arrived.

"Come in and shut the door behind you."

Greg did, preparing himself for what was to come.

"I'm just going to get straight to the point," Grissom began as soon as Greg had sat down. "You should have said something sooner about the therapy, you're actually required to. That's the kind of thing me, being your boss, needs to know. Greg, I don't doubt your ability or stability, but…"

"If I go all crazy and become a liability then the city gets sued," Greg finished.

Grissom just shrugged.

"I didn't think, I didn't realize it," Greg supplied. "I should have told you, you're right, I know that now. It won't happen again."

"It's more serious then that."

"How much more?"

"I just got out of meeting with the head of the department and the other shift leads, you were mentioned."

Greg thought it was more like he was what the meeting was about, but didn't interject.

"I had to file a report last year about your problems. It was thought to be a one time thing."

"It was. Grissom, I'm not…"

"Please, let me finish," he continued. "I had to file another report last night. They feel that there should be an inquiry into whether or not you are competent to hold this position."

"What did you say?"

"I said that I thought there was no question. That you were not only fully qualified but fully capable to work in the field. I told them that it was likely an oversight that you had not told me sooner about the therapy and additional drug treatment and that by removing yourself from the case as it was, showed good judgment. In short, I have no problem with you so they shouldn't either."

"But they didn't see it that way, did they?" Greg asked, knowing by Grissom's face that he was right.

"No, they did not."

"So now what?"

"Friday afternoon, three o'clock you're going before them. I'll be there, on the panel, but on your side. You'll have to answer their questions, shouldn't be too hard just tell them the truth."

"What exactly are they deciding?"

"Your future here."

"Oh," Greg said a bit stunned, standing to go, "as long as it isn't serious."

Grissom didn't comment on that. He knew Greg was nervous so he let it slide.

"One other thing," Grissom said to him before he got out the door. "You'll have to stay back the next few nights, out of the field, until after the board meets."

Greg nodded, he'd expected that.

"Anything else?"

"Yes, Catherine and Warrick are taking the Sanchez case. They'll need to talk to you about it when they get in."

"What about?"

"They'll just need to know where you were Monday night, about two in the morning. Precautionary. Sooner we cross you off of the list of suspects the better."

"Suspects? I'm a suspect?"

"Only because you're a patient. All her patients are suspects. Just let them know where you were and if anyone can corroborate it."

Greg nodded and said nothing more, just turned and left making his way slowly down the hall. This was a problem.


	5. Statement

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Chapter 5: Statement**

Greg ducked into the DNA lab. It was an avoidance tactic. He had no inclination to run into either Warrick or Catherine until he'd talked to Sara. He figured he could come inside, talk with Amy, maybe find out how Dr. Sanchez's case was going and then slip in late to the staff meeting.

"Hey there," he said, sliding onto the stool and then quickly looking up and down the hallway.

"Are you pretending to be a spy again?" Amy asked, looking up from the beakers she had in her hands.

"What?"

"This," she said, mimicking his earlier movement of scanning the halls.

"No, I'm just laying low."

"This doesn't have anything to do with the case last night, does it?"

"Good guess."

"Obvious guess. I was told, actually told several times that I can't tell you anything about it. I didn't ask why, because really, why would they tell me anything I'm just the hired help."

Greg momentarily forgot his own problems, Amy didn't sound like herself.

"Can't be that bad already, you've only been on like twenty minutes."

"Try since noon."

"What?"

"Day shift called in sick, swing shift is apparently incompetent and I am too stupid to just let my phone ring."

"Ah yes," Greg said a smug smile on his face, "the good old days."

Amy looked at him with little effort to conceal her loathing.

"Seriously," he continued, choosing to ignore the icy stares, "did they get anything?"

"I couldn't tell you," she said in a louder then needed voice, slowly shaking her head from side to side and making significant eye contact. Greg got the point. They'd come up with nothing usable.

"Well, be like that," he added for effect, but winked at her once before leaving. "See you later."

"Bye," she called out in a much friendlier tone.

Greg continued down the hallway running straight into one of the two people he was trying to avoid. Warrick Brown.

"Hey Greg," he said coming to a stop, "I've been looking for you. Got a minute?"

"Sure," he answered, feeling his stomach clench. "What's going on?"

"We should probably do this in private," Warrick replied, motioning for Greg to follow as they made their way to the break room.

Warrick peaked inside, waved to Catherine who got up to join them as they continued on down the hall.

"We can use the conference room," Warrick continued "it shouldn't take long."

Greg didn't trust himself to answer. He thought he might throw up again.

"Have a seat," he said once inside.

Greg complied, sitting on one side of the table, noticing that Warrick and Catherine, likely out of habit, chose the other side to sit on.

"Let's just skip right to this," Catherine began. "Grissom told us how you know the victim, Laura Sanchez, from the case last night. We're still waiting on a warrant to release the names of the rest of her patients and files to us, so until then you're the only one we know of."

"So I went from suspect to prime suspect like that."

"You know we don't think you did this," Warrick countered.

"We've just need a statement. Where you were when it happened. Who might be able to verify your statement. The basics. If you're up to answering some additional questions that would help."

"Additional questions like what?" Greg asked trying to skirt the larger issue of where he was at the time.

"Well," Warrick began, looking uncertainly to Catherine first, "did she seem out of sorts lately? Did you notice anyone strange hanging around her office? Stuff like that."

"I wish I could help, but last time I saw Dr. Sanchez was on Thursday."

"Regular appointment?" Catherine asked.

"Yeah, I go on Tuesday's and Thursday's. Nine o'clock."

They both now had out their own notebooks and jotted it down.

"So she was fine then?"

"I guess so. It's not like I go there and we talk about her life. I don't really know much about her, but Dr. Tracey might. She's was like her mentor, knows her well. I'll get you her number she might be able to help."

"Good," Catherine said smiling. She knew this was tough on Greg. She also hadn't wanted it to turn into an interrogation. He didn't need this now, but there were things they needed to know.

"So," she continued. "Monday night, about two a.m., you weren't on duty so what, home sleeping?"

"Yes," Greg said as he nodded.

"Can anyone verify that?" Warrick asked.

"Um, like what, a neighbor or someone?"

Catherine and Warrick exchanged brief looks.

"Because I live alone and…"

"Yes or no Greg," Catherine said putting an end to his stammering. She thought she knew what was bothering him. He must not have been alone. Not unusual not even that unexpected. Greg was clearly winning the fight against the cancer. In the past few months he'd gained back his color, some of his weight, even managed to grow enough hair back that he could once more stick it at odd angles the way he liked. Catherine assumed he'd gone out, picked up some girl whose name he couldn't remember now and just didn't want to admit it to them.

Warrick however was on a separate but parallel track. He'd spent a lot of time with Greg over the last year. Noticed things not everyone else did. Things like who Greg spent his time with when he wasn't at work. A lot of time with. Looking him over, he knew he hadn't spent the night alone and that's what was bothering Greg. And Warrick felt that he wasn't going to tell them that.

Before Greg could answer or Catherine could continue to press the issue, there was a knock at the door.

Sara, not waiting for an answer, poked her head inside.

"Sorry," she said, as she came inside and shut the door behind her.

"Sara," Catherine started "can you give us a few minutes. Tell Gil we're sorry, but we'll be in the meeting shortly."

"I'm not here about that," she said coming over and sitting down next to Greg, who let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"We're kind of busy," Catherine continued, looking mildly annoyed now.

"I know; you're getting Greg's statement. Grissom just told me."

"You don't have…" Greg started. Relieved to see her, but dreading what was to come.

"Yes I do," she cut him off. "I'm not going to let you dig yourself in any deeper by lying because you think you owe it to me. You're in enough trouble."

"And there's no point in you going down with me."

"That's sweet, but not necessary."

The exchange between them was watched in silence. Warrick now assumed his suspicions were correct and Catherine felt completely lost.

"Monday night," Sara said turning back to the others, "I worked from four to midnight. After I left here, I met Greg at his apartment. We didn't leave until the next morning around eight to grab breakfast before I dropped him off at Dr. Tracey's office for his bone marrow test results. Sufficient?"

"You're his alibi?" Catherine asked, recovering a little.

"Yes. He was with me."

"The whole night?" Catherine asked and then immediately regretted it. She hadn't been able to stop herself it time and it had slipped out. Quite frankly, she was shocked.

"Yes," Sara answered, sounding only slightly agitated and that had been a feat in itself.

"I think we have enough now," Warrick said standing to go. He didn't like where this was headed. Greg, equally uneasy, stood as well, but the two women remained seated, continuing to stare at one another.

"How long has this been going on?" she continued. Catherine had a bit of a protective streak when it came to Greg. Ironically, a lot of it stemmed from when she'd nearly killed him in the lab explosion.

"Cath," Greg cut in "that's not really your business."

"You were his supervisor," she said, continuing to direct her remarks to Sara.

"Was his supervisor," Warrick said "I finished Greg's training. She hasn't signed off on him in nearly a year." It was a little fib; the truth was closer to eight months.

"So, how long ago did this start?"

Sara and Greg exchanged brief glances, but neither spoke. Catherine finally stood up herself, angry and feeling a bit deceived.

"This is going to have to get written up. It's going to be your statement and people are going to ask questions."

Catherine had calmed down some, the initial shock having worn off. She wasn't mad at them, not really. She was mad at the situation. This was going to cause problems for all of them. The slightest hint of impropriety could do a lot of damage to all of their careers, Gil's especially. Conrad Ecklie was going to love it.


	6. Revelations

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Chapter 6: Revelations**

Twenty minutes later Sara, Greg, Warrick and Nick were still awaiting their assignments in the break room. Nick had tried talking to each of them in turn, but couldn't get anything beyond one or two replies. He had no idea what had been going on but was determined to find out.

Grissom and Catherine finally arrived. Catherine still looked angry and Grissom looked more pensive then usual. Looking at them both Greg knew she had to have told him.

Without explanation on why they were late Grissom began the meeting. It was quick and to the point, but left a lot unsaid. Warrick and Catherine were working the Sanchez case. Nick and Sara were looking into a dead homeless man found off the strip and Greg was to help Amy with the backlog of evidence in the lab.

Only Nick showed any kind of reaction to that last part, but before he could say anything about it Grissom had wrapped it up and left. Catherine followed him out, leaving the original four still in the room.

"What the hell?" Nick asked Greg.

"I'll explain on the way," Sara answered him but looking instead at Greg. Uncharacteristically she kissed him once on the cheek not caring that Warrick and Nick and whoever was walking by might see it. Concern for him was the only thing on her mind.

"Let's go," she continued, grabbing Nick by the arm and leading him out before he could question or protest further.

"So it must be serious then," Warrick said in an even tone when it was just them left.

"What?"

"You and Sara."

"Yeah, I guess so." Greg replied, sitting back down and rubbing his hands over the back of his head in frustration. "It just so complicated."

"Women usually are."

Greg laughed.

"Speaking of which, I've got one waiting for me. Catherine's on a roll tonight, should be interesting."

"Good luck."

"You too man," Warrick said as he left.

Deciding that delay would only make things worse, Greg headed down to the DNA lab.

"I told you," Amy said as she saw him enter, "I can't tell you anything."

"Good thing I'm not here to ask then."

"Okay, I'll bite," she said looking up at him good naturedly. "Why are you here?"

"Because I'm not allowed out in the field right now and you're swamped."

Amy looked at him strangely.

"Is that a joke?"

Greg just shook his head, as he traded his own jacket for a lab coat.

"This side of the counter?" she asked, pointing down for emphasis.

"Just tell me what needs doing."

"Greg," she said seriously "what happened? You haven't worked in here for like ever."

"Yeah, I think I've forgotten what most of this stuff does."

He was trying to joke with her, make her stop looking at him so sadly, but it wasn't working.

"Are you okay?"

"Amy," Greg said as seriously as he could "please stop asking questions. I'm working here tonight, with you, probably at least until Friday. After that, I don't know. I'll tell you all about it later; I just need to start doing something right now."

"I haven't started those back there yet. I was going to after I took a break."

"Thank you."

Amy said no more. They worked in relative silence for another hour before Amy decided to take that break. She asked him to join her, but he'd refused. Greg had fallen right back into the groove of working in the lab and it was the best thing for him. He needed to be doing something familiar that kept his head occupied just enough so he didn't have the inclination to brood. Brooding was bad.

Not long after Amy left, Grissom joined him.

"This isn't a punishment," he said from the doorway.

Greg didn't even look up.

"That's funny, because it feels that way."

"Greg, you can't be in the field until after your review board. I told you that. Most of the evidence being handled elsewhere is from the Sanchez case. That's the only reason I asked you to work here tonight."

"So it has nothing to do with Sara and me?" Greg asked, finally looking up.

"No. You're entitled to have a private life."

"How come I feel a but coming on?"

"But," Grissom said, with a slight nod of the head "considering the circumstances the two of you should have informed either me or Catherine sooner."

"Okay, let me see if I've got all of this. I can have a private life as long as it doesn't involve seeing a psychiatrist or dating a co-worker. Then I have to inform you, or Catherine in your place."

"Greg, I don't think you…"

"Is there a handbook for this, because if there are any other stipulations, I should really be reading up on them."

"Greg…"

"And does this only apply to me, because I know a surprising lot about who's dating who around here and I don't remember them lining up at your door to ask permission."

"Come to my office," Grissom said as he turned to go. Greg was getting louder by the second and he couldn't continue this with him out in the relative open.

Greg ripped off his gloves and followed him out.

Sitting down now in what he was starting to feel was his chair, he watched as Grissom shut the door and leaned on the desk in front of him.

"I understand you're angry," Grissom started, putting up a hand for silence to allow him to continue. "I would be angry too. This is in no way meant to undermine any relationship you may be involved in. The problem here is that Sara was in a supervisory position over you when this may have started. That is the only problem. The review board will have read both of your statements by Friday and are going to ask questions."

Greg had begun to calm down, was listening again.

"Greg," Grissom said very calmly "your stories have to match exactly."

Greg blinked at him, not sure if he'd understood that. It had sounded an awful lot like Gil Grissom had just told him to lie. To his superiors.

"Knowing both of you," Grissom continued "I'm sure that this relationship didn't start until well after Sara had asked to be removed as your trainer. Like two to three months after."

Greg understood now.

"Of course not," he answered.

Actually, it was less then a month.

True, they didn't talk about it or make anything official between them until after she'd made the request, but emotionally, at least for him, he'd long been attached to her.

Before that they had spent one night together, not long after his initial diagnosis, but it could hardly be called the start of their relationship.

"Good," Grissom said getting to his feet.

Greg did likewise and left without another word. On the way back to the lab he ran into Nick.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked quietly as he fell in step beside him.

"Tell you what?"

"About knowing the victim?"

"Shock I guess," Greg answered. Sara must have told him. It was pretty typical Nick. He didn't seem concerned that Greg was seeing a shrink, just concerned about his general wellbeing. He really was a good friend.

"Well, I know you have Sara but if you need to talk about it, let me know."

"Thanks man," Greg said, detouring off into the lab.

"You knew her?" Amy asked, back from break and having heard them outside the door.

Greg nodded and she said nothing more.

After that the shift flew by. He'd forgotten how quickly time seemed to pass in the lab. It was so different from the field where minutes could sometimes feel like hours. Before he knew it it was time to go home. Time for him and Sara to sit down and work out what they were going to say in another two days.


	7. Reviews

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Chapter 7: Reviews **

It was well after the end of their shift but Catherine and Warrick were still at work. They'd gotten the paperwork all together and in order and the office manager had just arrived. It was their first trip into Dr. Laura Sanchez's office.

"Where should we start?" Warrick asked.

"Well, try the desk first. An appointment book maybe? I'm going for the filing cabinets."

During the course of the night they'd grown more relaxed with each other. It had been tense at first, Warrick thought she'd overreacted. But Warrick didn't know the things Catherine did. Things like how strongly Ecklie had resisted Greg's promotion in the first place. The man wasn't stupid; Greg was a hard worker and an excellent tech. He hadn't wanted to loose him where he thought he'd needed him more. Where Ecklie had more control over him.

"Found a list of patients," Catherine called from across the room.

"Well, I've got the appointment book. It's a start."

"We're going to need all of this," Catherine said, indicating the filing cabinets. "Only way were going to find out who fits the profile."

Warrick said nothing. He'd read the profile and had just been glad Greg had a witness to his whereabouts. They were likely looking for a manic-depressive, mid-twenties to forties, white male with a good understanding of criminology. The best part was that the guy, whoever he was, probably hadn't been in therapy long and had recently undergone a stressful change in life. The profiler might as well have added that his last name was Sanders and that the killer had hair dye fetish.

Of course profilers had been wrong before.

Greg couldn't have done this. Warrick hard a hard time believing anyone could have done this. The body had been clean, washed clean in the bathtub. The guy had taken the time to run bleach down the drain after the fact. Near as they could tell, he'd even vacuumed. And it had been personal; cause of death had been strangulation. It didn't get any more personal then that. He'd only cut her throat well after she'd died, strictly for effect. Not to mention the little love note carved into her stomach.

"Got everything you need?" Catherine asked, joining him at the desk.

"Yeah, what's that?"

"A few files to start with. Her most recent sessions."

"Not Greg's."

Catherine said nothing.

"Cath," he started, "come on. He's not a suspect."

"He fits the profile Warrick. We have too, just to rule him out."

"He has an alibi."

"And they've been lying to all of us for months."

Warrick said nothing. There was no point; she was taking it no matter what he said.

* * *

The next few days passed slowly. Everyone did all they could to help prepare Greg for the review board, but he was still nervous. Sara and he went over what they'd say if asked about their relationship. As far as anyone needed to know it had only been going on the last three months seriously. In a way, that was true. It had only been since then that they'd pretty much given up the pretense of living in separate apartments. Sara still had her own place; she just hadn't seen it in that long. Neither was comfortable lying, they just really hoped it didn't come up.

The day before the board was to meet Greg found out some disturbing news. He wasn't the only one being called forward. They were talking to practically the whole shift. Almost everyone he worked with was going to go in there to discuss how erratic his behavior was. It was scary. Most people, Jacqui, Archie and the like, he knew what to expect. They'd be behind him. But not everyone was his friend. Hodges in particular walked around the night before with a sickening smile.

The day of, they talked to everyone in the main conference room. Greg didn't have to be there until three, but showed up just as they initially got underway at one. On Grissom's advice he'd worn his only suit. On Catherine's, Sara stayed behind until she was called. Their involvement was out in the open now but there was no need to flaunt it.

Most people stayed in five to ten minutes. Short and to the point he guessed. The first person to stay longer was Hodges. He'd gone inside and hadn't come out for just over half an hour.

Amy was the last lab tech in. She too was gone longer, but Greg was more positive about what she had to say. After she came back out, twenty minutes later, they asked in Doc Robins. He gave Greg a friendly pat on the shoulder as Amy walked up.

"Well?" he asked. He hadn't had the nerve to approach anyone else.

"Oh Greg," she said rolling her eyes.

"That bad?"

"Worse. They've really got it in for you. They asked me all sorts of questions; I hardly know what I said."

"Hey," Nick said, coming up from behind Amy to talk with them both.

"What kind of questions?" Greg asked. He wanted to be ready for this and now he felt he wasn't.

"They wanted me to compare your work in the field to your work in the lab. How am I supposed to do that? I've never been in the field."

"What else?" Nick asked, not liking the sound of that.

"General health stuff. How he looked? How he acted?" Amy continued.

Greg thanked her for doing her best, not sure if what she'd said had hurt or helped and continued to wait and watch.

After Doc Robins came the team. Catherine went first, followed by Nick, Warrick and then Sara. Grissom, actually on the board, had assumedly said all he could already in his defense. The real surprise had been Dr. Tracey showing up. Apparently Grissom had called her, told her the situation and asked her to come down and maybe shed some light on Greg's diagnosis.

Greg didn't know it but her testimony helped the most. Having been in regular contact with Dr. Sanchez, she knew exactly what Greg was being treated for and why. Yes, he had mild bipolar tendencies, but these tendencies would not have surfaced had it not been for his chemotherapy treatment. His moods were typically manic, not depressive. All this meant was that his highs, his good moods, were generally a lot better then most peoples. She did admit that his depressions, although fewer then the average person treated with bipolar, were expected to be the same. Worse then most peoples. She felt that he was in no way suicidal or even dangerous. Greg, she assured them, was only meant to be on anti-depressants until his cancer went into remission. In short, there was nothing preventing him from doing his job.

Greg had gone last.

He only recognized three faces before him, and at the moment he could only name two of them. Grissom and Ecklie. Greg sat down and tried not to do any of the things he mostly did when he was nervous like bite his lips or bounce his feet, he just held his hands in front of him. His knuckles were white from the effort.

"Mr. Sanders, thank you for joining us. This shouldn't take too much longer."

They'd been right. It hadn't taken long, no more then ten minutes. They'd confirmed from him he was in therapy and why. Asked a few questions about how he felt his training had gone. Let him give his explanation of why he hadn't brought forward the issue sooner and that was it. If anything, the lack of questions made him feel worse. Like they'd already decided his fate.

They'd dismissed him quickly and asked him to wait outside. Sara was waiting for him, eager to know how it had gone. His face told her a lot.

"Maybe Dr. Tracey convinced them," she said hopefully, sitting beside him and holding his hand.

"I don't think Clarence Darrow could convince them."

"Greg."

"Seriously, where am I going to find work as a chemist in Vegas that isn't in the crime lab?"

"You're getting a bit ahead of yourself now. You don't know…"

But what he didn't know, he was about to find out. They were ready for him. Already. It just reconfirmed his view that they'd already decided long before now.

"Good luck," she said squeezing his hand once before he stood to go.

Greg reentered the room and sat down without being asked. He only looked for one person, Grissom. Usually unreadable, but not now. Grissom looked angry. Greg knew it was bad.

He hardly heard them speaking. It almost sounded like the teachers in Charlie Brown cartoons. Greg found he really only caught every third or fourth word of what was said, but he understood it fine.

"Wah wah wah… valued employee. Wah wah wah… health issues. Wah wah wah… lack of respect. Wah wah wah… promoted too soon."

It came down to the fact that the board felt he couldn't do his job. They thought he lacked the maturity and responsibility needed to perform as a CSI in the field, evident in his antics he'd become infamous for. However, they did have value for the work. They knew he was talented and didn't want to lose him entirely. He was being demoted and moved to day shift. The board felt this was best for everyone, especially considering his health concerns.

The bright side, if there was one, was that it might not be permanent. They'd review his file in six months time. If his cancer really did go into remission and as Dr. Tracey had said he could successfully be removed off of the anti-depressants without incident they'd consider reinstating him to CSI Level One again.

Greg left the room feeling completely dejected. Again, Sara didn't have to ask, she could see it in his eyes. Immediately, she thought the worse.

"They didn't?" she asked shocked.

"No," he answered as if reading her mind. "I haven't been fired. In a way it's almost worse."

"How could it be worse?"

"I'm reporting to Ecklie now."


	8. Friday Night

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Notes:** Glad everyone is enjoying it so far! I can't promise to keep updating like I have been, but I'm trying for one chapter a day. The last three were really hard and I'm trying to get back to the case at hand, but I get side tracked emotionally. : ) This one is my fluff chapter of the piece. It was getting to dark and I thought they might need a break, and I definitely needed one. Thanks to: A Bloom, cupotrevor, white rose01, Sillie, fading-lights, katie, BlondeNeko, Miss-Andromache, Sandersgirl, carolann, ThreeDollarBill and fwe for the reviews!

**Chapter 8: Friday Night **

The break room was full. Grissom was glad he'd made it back before either Greg or Sara but he wasn't glad at what he had to tell all of Greg's co-workers and friends. They'd been disappointed to hear it, but not surprised. After making his announcement only Amy and Nick stuck around to see if Greg and Sara would show at all. Warrick and Catherine had business that couldn't wait. Files to go through and interview lists to compile. Soon it was only Amy and Nick left.

"I don't think they're coming in," Nick said after twenty minutes had passed.

"Well, Sara did have the night off. Greg I guess has every night off now."

Nick smiled sadly at Amy.

"Can't say I blame them. I don't think I could have come back here after that."

"Remind me to have no aspirations beyond 'senior' lab tech," Amy said, getting to her feet.

"What? You want to stay in the lab? I thought Greg was pioneering new career paths for lab rats everywhere. I thought you all wanted out in the field."

"Thanks, but no. Greg isn't my Moses. Maybe Archie does, he seems interested but I couldn't do it."

"He seems interested in you."

"Okay," Amy said planting a fake smile on her face as she sat down again, this time next to Nick. "You are really behind on your gossip. First, and this is strictly according to water cooler discussion, I was sleeping with Greg. We weren't dating, just sleeping together. Apparently all of this was to make Sara sick with jealousy, which worked. Then it was Archie. He and I had a torrid affair which ended with me leaving him heartbroken. Next it was David the coroner guy. I've only met him twice, but that didn't matter. Talking a few times in the hall is all it takes. Now all indications are that I'm either targeting in on you or Warrick. The gossip hyenas haven't decided which one of you yet but I'm certain us sitting her talking like this has pushed you into the lead."

"Busy year," Nick replied.

"Yeah, I get around." Amy said dryly. She clearly wasn't amused and Nick felt bad for even joking about it now.

"I'm sorry; I'm still learning when to keep my mouth shut."

"You're not the problem," Amy said seriously. "I'm not good at the social thing and sometimes that comes off as bitchy. People like to talk about their bitchy co-workers. It bothers me, sometimes a lot, but I can't stop them."

"I've never thought that about you," Nick said sincerely.

"Thanks. It would have probably been easier coming into this job if Greg hadn't been so damn good at it. Everyone loved him and I'm just not quirky. He could talk to anyone and I can't."

"Well, not everyone loved him."

"I know," Amy said, sounding sadder then before. She leaned her head down, causing a thick strand of hair to fall out of her otherwise neat pony tail and across her face. "It's horrible. I mean, I'm glad he'll still be around. The day shift tech was a nightmare, but it isn't really fair."

"Life sometimes isn't."

As he'd said it, Nick casually reached over and tucked the errant strand back behind Amy's ear. It would be hard to say who was more surprised by this. Nick had just done it on reflex, without thinking that he was crossing a line until it was too late. Amy just looked up at him, eyes big and uncertain. She didn't know how to respond to such an intimate gesture.

"But Greg will be fine," Nick finally said, mostly to be saying something. To break the mood. It had gotten uncomfortably silent between them.

"Damn it Stokes, I thought I told you not to talk about me when I'm not around."

Nick and Amy turned at once. Greg and Sara had shown up after all.

"Hey," Nick called out, getting to his feet. Amy followed suit. "We didn't think you'd come."

"Not really my idea too," Greg said, indicating Sara with his head.

"We wanted to see if anyone else wanted to go out tonight," Sara supplied. "We'd planned to all week, before this because of the test results."

"Now it's more of demotion party," Greg finished, trying to laugh it off. Laugher was his only option. Sara wasn't going to let him get moody or depressed. She had high hopes for his reevaluation.

"It's only temporary," Nick supplied. "In six months you'll be back on mids poking at dead bodies in the field."

Greg just shrugged. He wasn't too sure about that, but he had to hope it was true.

"Are you in?" Sara asked Nick.

"Sure, but I'm not really into that whole third wheel thing."

"You won't be. Amy's coming too." Greg said more then asked.

"I guess if it's not a problem." She really wasn't that comfortable with Sara. Greg had never noticed it, but Amy was certain that all that talk about her and him last year hadn't exactly put her high on Sara's list of best buddies. They were a lot friendlier then they had been to each other, but they didn't hang out together unless Greg was somehow involved.

"Anyone else off tonight?" Greg asked as the four of them headed out of the room.

"We could ask Archie," Nick leaned down and whispered to Amy who responded by elbowing him in the ribs.

"What?" Sara asked, briefly turning her head round at the 'oof' sound Nick emitted.

"Nothing," Amy said. "Let's just get out of here."

They'd all agreed to meet up in an hour at a club Greg had picked. Nick and Sara, knowing Greg's taste in music and social scenes, had tried to object to this but were overruled. Greg won out in the end arguing that when they got demoted he'd be glad to occupancy them to the honky-tonk or vegan bar of their choice.

Sara and Greg arrived first. After getting inside they somehow managed to get a table near the back. The band was good, just a little loud and the people there were of a variety hardly seen mingling together. It was Friday night and the place was packed.

"It's different then what I expected," Sara said to him after they'd ordered their drinks. Greg, still on meds, had a coke. Sara the same. They'd already told Nick and Amy they'd DD for them if needed.

"Why's that?" Greg asked, taking it all in. He hadn't been out in a long time and it felt good. Sara had been right; sitting home would have been too depressing after everything that had happened this week.

"I can actually understand the lyrics," she said smiling at him.

Greg smiled at her but said nothing, just leaned in and kissed her near her ear making her melt a little and giggle. He loved her laugh; she didn't do it nearly enough.

"I told you two that I don't want to see that," Nick said as he pulled up a chair next to Sara. He'd already gotten a drink at the bar and was now checking the place out.

"This place isn't bad," he finally said.

"I'm so glad you approve," Greg said with a laugh.

They made small talk for a few minutes. Greg could still point out the regulars of the place. Obviously he'd been there a lot. He knew which band was playing and guessed which one would come up next. Half an hour late, Amy finally arrived.

"We were going to send out a search party," Nick said to her as she got to them.

"I could have used one," she said sitting down at the only spot left, between the two guys. "You give horrible directions."

"Sorry, I told you I didn't know the exact street address," Greg answered.

Amy rolled her eyes and looked around now for herself.

"So this is what I've been missing."

Greg was only half listening, lost for a moment in the things he had missed for himself. He loved music and it suddenly felt like ages since he'd heard any.

"Dance with me," Greg said, turning suddenly to Sara.

"What? No, I don't dance."

"Come on, it's easy. You just move when everyone else does, or try too."

"When they play something slower," she promised.

"I don't like the slow songs."

"Well, ask Amy then."

Greg gave her a look not sure if this was some sort of girlfriend test. Sara he knew wouldn't say something she didn't mean, but it felt like a trick.

"Really? You don't mind?"

"No," Sara said enthusiastically. "As long as I don't have to go out there you can dance with Nick if you want too."

Greg smiled at her before getting to his feet and asking Amy. Asking a bit of an overstatement, he really just told her they were going before dragging her off with him. Sara laughed at the sight, somewhat glad at having escaped it herself.

"That's brave of you," Nick said smirking as he'd watched them go.

"What?"

"I just didn't think you were the type to send your boyfriend off with some girl you openly disdain Sidle."

"I don't dislike her; I just don't know her that well. Greg likes her, trusts her. That's enough for me."

"Amy's a good person," Nick said as he turned to watch Greg and Amy dancing on the floor. Sara eyed him shrewdly before her mouth split into an evil grin.

"Nicky you cradle robber."

"Okay," he said sounding defensive, "first off nothing is happening. She's ten years younger then me Sara. Ten. I was in college when she was in grade school."

Sara waved him off dismissively, laughing now at how riled up she'd gotten him. Nick could dish it out but sometimes he couldn't take it.

"And second," he continued, trying to ignore the flush creeping up his neck, "the kettle said what? Last time I checked, the only cradle robber on shift was you."

Sara was still laughing. Greg being younger didn't bother her in the least.

"I am so telling Greg that when he gets back."

Nick shook his head, almost daring her too in a way. He knew she wasn't going to, was just trying to get under his skin. But when the song ended he started to doubt it as the smile stayed firmly planted on her face.

Greg and Amy detoured first to the bar arriving with fresh drinks minutes later. As soon as Greg sat down, Sara turned his head to her and whispered something in his ear. Whatever was said, Greg chuckled and then turned to Nick and laughed. Nick wasn't amused. Fortunately for him the band had started playing a slow number.

"Let's go," Greg said, shifting his focus back to Sara. She tried to resist, but couldn't. Greg won again, dragging her to the floor much as he had done with Amy earlier.

"They are cute together," Amy said to Nick as she watched them dance for a few seconds. They looked like they were talking to each other out there and Amy felt a surge of envy flare inside her. Not over Greg, she only liked him as a friend, had never wanted anything more then friendship from him. She was envious of 'them'. It must be nice to have someone like that.

"It's just weird still."

"I don't know," Amy laughed "I always thought it would be them."

"Well, that's because you're new. You've only seen them together recently."

"Fine," she said in mild annoyance, "But just how long am I going to have to wear this 'new' label? I've been here a year already; you'd think I'd be just Amy not 'new' Amy still."

"Well, I don't think of you as 'new' Amy," Nick said trying to make her laugh.

"What do you think of me?"

Nick shrugged his shoulders and turned back round to see if he could spot Greg and Sara again. Amy brushed it off, taking another sip of her drink.

Nick felt bad but knew why he hadn't answered. He couldn't of. He didn't know the answer to that question yet himself.


	9. Day Shift

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Chapter 9: Day Shift**

While one half of the team spent their Friday night at a club, Catherine and Warrick were still hard at work compiling a list of potentials. Despite bringing Greg's record back with her, Catherine hadn't even touched it. She couldn't. It felt like invasion of privacy. Instead, they worked off of the others.

Soon enough they had at least three to four candidates that fit the general profile and were not Greg. Catherine was already leaning towards a guy with mommy issues while Warrick was keeping his mind open.

They still didn't have much to go on. Tonight they'd planned to look through some of the more recent unsolved murders in the area. Who ever had done this, it was obviously not their first time. Catherine had just been ready to suggest a break when Warrick started to laugh.

"What is it?" she asked, interested as to what he could find funny about any of this.

"Ah, man. What are the odds on this?"

Catherine looked over his shoulder. He was re-reading Dr. Sanchez's appointment book, making sure they hadn't missed a patient.

"What?"

"I mean, how many shrinks are there in the city, hundreds? Got to be hundreds."

"I still don't see what's so funny," Catherine said.

Warrick shut the book before she could see what he had and positively grinned at her.

"Good?" she asked.

"So," he said, leaning back to really relish it. "What are the odds that our Dr. Sanchez not only treats one person from this lab, but two?"

Catherine looked puzzled.

"Even better," he continued still smug, "but how much greater are the odds that those two people are on the same shift?"

"Who?" she asked at a loss.

"I'll give you a hint," Warrick said, leaning in towards her a bit. "Dr. Sanchez's other patient just about got Greg fired today."

Catherine's grin now matched Warrick's. Sometimes life was good.

Two minutes later they'd arrived in his lab.

"I told you," Hodges said without looking up at either of them, "that I don't have it yet. When you get me something decent to compare it too, maybe. But as it is, half of a natural fiber isn't enough to go on, even for me."

"Oh, we're not here about that." Catherine said smoothly.

"Do you have anything new for me?" he asked, finally meeting their gazes.

"In a way," she continued. "Care to tell us why you never mentioned that you were also a regular patient of Dr. Sanchez's?"

"I don't have the privilege of understanding you."

"We came across your name in her appointment book. David Hodges, like clockwork every third Wednesday." Warrick supplied for him.

"That," he said, getting to his feet and looking nervously down the hall "is not your business. I have rights. Besides, unlike persons who shall remain nameless, I have informed my supervisor of these visits which are only for anger management."

"Did Grissom know?" Catherine asked, knowing for certain he didn't. Hodges wouldn't be anywhere near the evidence if he had.

"The senior lab tech did."

"But not Grissom," Warrick added.

"I didn't think it was necessary to inform him."

"You're working, right now even, on a case where you had regular contact with the victim. You didn't think that might not be grounds for dismissal during a trial? Might not bring into question the validity of the evidence?" Catherine asked in disbelief.

"Sanders was first onto that scene, I don't hear you talking about him compromising…"

"Greg is not who we are discussing right now. Greg had enough sense to realize that his presence might be constituted as a compromise and removed himself from the scene immediately and then he went straight to Grissom." Catherine said visibly angry.

Hodges had nothing to say to it.

"I'll be letting Grissom know about this tonight," she finished "you might want to start getting ready for your review board."

* * *

Greg arrived two hours early to his first shift on Monday morning. He hadn't been able to sleep, years of graveyard shift taking its toll, and he decided to just go in. Amy was glad to have the company, but there wasn't anything for either of them to do.

After several cups of coffee and stifled yawns between them, Greg finally just told Amy to go home. She looked exhausted.

"But you're going to have to stay all day."

"I'll be fine," Greg said feeling really anything but. His body was normally slowing down about now, getting ready for sleep. Not trying to function.

"Are you sure?" she asked again, although Greg saw she'd already taken off her own lab coat.

"Go. Get some sleep. I'm planning on leaving as much work as possible for you anyway."

"Ah," she exclaimed, "but we have swing shift between us."

"And swing shift has never done anything useful since I've been here."

"Point taken," Amy said with a smile and a wave. "I'll rest up."

"See you," Greg called out as she left.

As soon as she was gone Greg started rearranging the lab. It had nearly driven him crazy the last time he worked in there earlier that week. Nothing had been kept where he was use to it, and if he was going to have to stay in the lab for at least six months then some things were going to have to change. Sorry Amy.

"What are you doing?"

Greg looked up from behind the counter he'd been busy resorting. He knew he looked ridiculous, he must have. He'd dragged have of the contents out onto the floor and was nearly inside of the cabinet to his waist.

"Hey Grissom," he said managing to bump his head lightly as he got out of the cabinet "I'm just doing a little cleaning."

"The lab is clean Greg."

"I know I'm just not use to where everything is so I'm putting things back."

"To where they belong."

"Exactly. Well, back to where I think they belong."

Grissom just continued to fix him with a stare.

"Okay, so I took psych 101 and I know I'm probably just doing this to put some order back into my own life. Like nesting, but without the baby."

"Greg…"

"I've got to spend a lot of time in here so I just want things to be where I left them. Neat."

"Greg…"

"And is it really too much to ask for anyone to throw out the empty boxes of gloves. They shouldn't even keep the gloves down here anyway."

"Greg," Grissom finally said loud enough to stop him.

"I'm babbling aren't I?"

"A little."

"Sorry."

"It's fine."

"I just want to get this day over with," Greg said with a sigh as he tossed the empty box into the trash can beside the desk.

"I know it."

"That and I'll probably fall asleep in a blood sample around ten. I'm just not a morning person."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," Grissom said with a smile on his face. "Don't worry though, not everyone on day shift is hard to work with."

"I'm sure they're all swell."

"That's the spirit."

Greg watched Grissom leave, not sure if he'd caught his sarcasm. Sara stopped in briefly before leaving for the day. She and Nick had been out at a scene for most of the night and got back well into the start of day shift. She'd only stayed long enough to tell him goodnight, morning he'd reminded her, and say that she'd be waiting for him when he got home.

Two hours officially into his first day shift and Greg thought he might die of boredom. Absolutely nothing was happening. Worse, the other lab techs avoided him like the plague. It was as if they thought that by talking to him or looking him in the eye they'd be psycho by association. Amy had been right about the gossip mill behind the scenes at the crime lab, because they were working full tilt on him now.

Greg thought idly about what they might be saying about Hodges. Probably nothing. Sometimes it takes awhile for karma to catch up. As near as anyone could tell Hodges got off with a slap on the wrist for doing almost the same thing Greg had done. The big 'almost' being that Hodges wasn't on any type of medication for his therapy visits and that he had in fact informed his supervisor, just not the right supervisor. Greg had seen the arrogant bastard that morning, smiling without a care in the world.

It was nearly eleven-thirty before anyone came into the lab. It was a woman he recognized from his review board. The one whose name he couldn't remember.

"Greg Sanders right?"

"My fame precedes me."

"Sofia Curtis," she said offering her hand to him. He shook it once and asked what she had for him.

"Skin samples from an investigation this morning. I'll have the swabs from the suspects for you to match in a few more hours."

"I'll have this ready by then," he answered, glad to have something to finally do. He needed the distraction to keep him awake.

She nodded but didn't leave. Greg was already starting work and at first hadn't noticed she was still there apparently waiting for something more. He finally looked up at her expectantly.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about this."

"About what?" he asked, "There's plenty here for a good sample."

"Not the sample," she shook her head "For this." As she said it, she indicated the lab. "You shouldn't have been forced back into this job. I wanted you to know that I thought you were handling yourself fine and that I hadn't voted against you."

"Grissom said there was another hold out," Greg said smiling back at her.

"Well, the biggest thing in your favor was his. He thinks you can be a great CSI and weren't getting a fair enough chance. I trust his judgment."

"Thanks," he said.

"I just hope this whole experience hasn't made you change your mind."


	10. Building a Mystery

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Chapter 10: Building a Mystery **

True to her word Sara had been waiting up for him. Greg had never felt more exhausted then he did at that time. She'd even made an early dinner but he was too tired to even eat. After the third time his head nearly hit the table, she forced him to bed.

"I can't sleep now," he nearly whined at her. "I'll be up again at two."

"Well," she said somewhat amused, he was so out of it, "I don't see what choice you have."

"It's that whole stupid shift," he said giving up and taking off his shoes as he sat on the foot of the bed. "You know they actually have a rule about the coffee pot?"

"Rule about what?" she asked, helping him off with his shirt as they spoke.

"Mmm," he said putting hands on her hips and smiling up at her mischievously.

"Greg," she said sternly. "Coffee pot?"

"Sorry, got distracted," he said before continuing. "Oh, yeah. No coffee after noon. Noon. Apparently it keeps everyone up too late at night."

Sara laughed a little.

"Yeah, it's funny to you," he said as he pulled off his pants. "I've been awake for almost twenty-four hours."

"So you didn't any sleep last night?"

"None," he yawned while crawling under the covers.

"Well, you'll be out before you know it."

Sara had started to walk out of the room when Greg called her back.

"Wait."

"No more stalling. Sleep now."

"Come lay with me. I missed you."

"If I lay with you you're not going to sleep," she said in a slightly accusatory tone.

Greg chuckled.

"Okay then, just wake me up soon. A few hours. I want to talk to you some time today."

"Alright," she said shutting off the light. "Just get some rest."

He didn't answer because he'd already fallen asleep. Sara shook her head and shut the door. She didn't have the chance to wake him up as he'd requested because before she had the chance he'd already woken up on his own. Screaming.

Greg hadn't had nightmares since that first night, almost a full week now, but they were back. Worse then before. For a few minutes he'd been delirious, he didn't know where he was. The room was already dark and until Sara got into the room and by his side, he hadn't known what was happening.

The images were still fresh. Horrifyingly fresh. He'd been in Dr. Sanchez's office, with her talking just like he had twice a week for so long now. Except even before it had gotten bad, he knew something was wrong. She kept asking him over and over about his job and no matter how he answered, she just kept asking. And then her eyes began to bleed. It was all he remembered from it but more then enough.

"Greg," Sara was saying now, loud and frightened. "Greg."

He was awake now. He tried to push that thought into his head. Awake. Awake. Awake. But it wasn't helping. He was panting and sweating and he couldn't breath.

Sara had run out of the room to the bathroom for his inhaler. When she got back he looked a little better, but he was still shaking and gasping.

"Calm down, it's over. It's over. It was a nightmare," she repeated to him again and again.

"I'm okay," he finally said acknowledging her for the first time, pushing the inhaler away. "I'm okay. I just need…"

"What?" she asked, moving away from him so he could stand up and get around. "What can I do?"

"I don't know," he said finally sounding a little normal. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head, trying to get rid of the lingering images.

She didn't have to ask what it had been about, that much was obvious. Sara just wasn't sure what to do now.

"Do you want to…" Sara let the question die on her lips. They'd hardly talked about any of it since it happened. Since knowing he'd be before a review panel and since Greg had nearly lost his job. What was there to say now?

"I…"

"No," she cut him off, "I understand. You don't want too."

"It's not that, I don't know if I can."

Sara saw that he was being honest with her. She did the only thing she could for him at the moment. Sara walked over to him and wrapped him in her arms.

Half an hour before she had to leave for her shift, Sara was trying to talk softly into the phone. Greg had calmed down since the nightmare but couldn't get back to sleep. He was in the shower right now, but wouldn't be for long.

"Just stop by soon and see how he is," she whispered.

The shower was still running in the background.

"I can't call in and Nick and Amy are both on tonight. Warrick, please."

Sara paced the floor. Greg wouldn't want anyone looking in on him, checking up on him. She really would have called in sick or something, but he'd insisted she go in like normal. He said he'd be fine, but he just didn't look it.

"You don't have to stay long."

The shower was off now.

"In about an hour. Thanks. Bye."

Sara hung up the phone and two seconds later Greg walked out of the bathroom.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she lied, "I just wanted to see you before I left." That part was true.

Greg smiled at her and she came over quickly and gave him a hug and kiss before heading off to work. Almost an hour later the doorbell rang.

"What's up?" Greg asked Warrick who had come over as promised.

"Not much, got the night off. Figured you weren't quite on a day shift schedule. Thought I'd stop by."

"Come on in," Greg said, a bit surprised but glad to see him. "What, did Sara send you?"

Greg had meant it as a joke, but when Warrick didn't laugh he knew it was true.

"You're kidding, tell me you're kidding."

"She's worried."

Greg nodded his head silently and sat down.

"If you want, I'll go."

"No, why don't you hang out. You can make it up to me by telling me about the case."

"You know I'm not supposed to," Warrick said taking a seat.

"Who am I going to tell?" Greg reasoned.

"Okay," Warrick smiled at him. "We've pretty much got nothing. We've ruled out all of the usual suspects."

"Her patients."

"Yes. Anyone who fit the profile had an alibi. Solid ones."

"And no DNA?"

"Not a drop. But, there were some interesting fibers at the scene. Near the tub."

"Synthetic or natural?"

"Natural."

Greg shook his head. They'd never catch this guy. Warrick looked as if he'd agreed.

"It's worse."

"How much?" Greg asked, he couldn't imagine it.

"We think we found two other victims."

"I didn't hear…"

"You wouldn't have. One was almost two years back. A prostitute in North Vegas. Black, a Jane Doe, about twenty-two or three. Wasn't much to it, strangled and dumped."

"Posed?"

Warrick nodded. Despite the situation, Warrick couldn't help but feel a little surge of pride mixed with disappointment. Greg was getting good at this. It felt good knowing he'd helped train him. If it wasn't for that stupid board Greg could probably be invaluable right now. He was good at sounding ideas off of.

"Didn't look like it at first, but her arms and hands were in the exact same position as Dr. Sanchez."

"No DNA there either?" he asked, knowing it was too much to hope for.

"None. It had rained prior to finding the body. Washed it all away."

"You said there was one more?"

"Yeah, four months ago. Break and enter. We're not sure this one is related."

"Why not?"

"Well, the victim was strangled and posed on her bed. Thirty-eight year old white woman. This time, he wasn't so careful. Swing shift picked this one up. They got a partial palm print inside the door and some hair samples not belonging to the victims."

"What, victims? So it wasn't just the woman?"

"That's why we aren't so sure about this being our guys. She was a single mother. He killed the child too."

Greg paused for a moment, uncertain he wanted to really ask it, but did. He had to know.

"How?"

Warrick took in a deep breath, knowing it wasn't going to be easy either way.

"Drowned. Tied up in the bathtub."

Greg closed his eyes and rubbed his head.

"Sara's going to kill me for telling you all this."

"No, it's fine. I need to know."

Warrick wasn't so sure he agreed.

"Let's not talk shop anymore," Warrick tried to change the subject. Greg didn't need this now.

"No, no wait. You said the first one you found was two years ago, then four months and then last week. That doesn't make sense. Usually these things escalate, right? They build. He wouldn't have waited nearly two years."

"We know it. We do. It's just this guy is all over the place. Most killers stick to a specific social group or even ethnicity, they either go for prostitutes or college girls or something else entirely, they don't wander all over the track. The only thing these victims have in common is that they're women. We don't know where to look. He may not have even been in Vegas the whole time. There's no telling at this point."

"Feds involved?"

"Not yet. Soon."

Greg nodded and didn't ask any more questions. Warrick stuck around for another hour before Greg shooed him out the door. He claimed he was going to sleep, but he couldn't. Not with so much on his mind. He'd never wanted anything more then he wanted to be involved in this case. He needed it solved. 


	11. Lack of Sleep

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Chapter 11: Lack of Sleep**

The next day had been rough. Again Greg showed up extremely early. He'd little more then three hours sleep in a full day and a half. Amy took one look at him, said he looked like hell and ordered him out of the lab. She wasn't going to turn over anything to him until he got some sleep.

Sulking, he headed off towards the break room, inexplicably getting lost and ending up instead in the locker room. Too tired to continue on he decided to rest on the bench and before he'd known it had shut his eyes.

The next thing he knew someone was shouting his name.

"What are you doing in here?" Nick asked.

Greg mumbled something about the time, sat up and rubbed his back. Sleeping on a bench, he decided, wasn't the smartest move.

"Almost eight."

"Really?" Greg asked surprised as he continued to stretch.

"How long you been here?" Nick asked, opening his own locker to retrieve his things.

"About three hours maybe."

"And you slept here the whole time?"

"Unless I sleep walk."

"That's going to hurt."

"It already does," Greg countered standing now and still rubbing his back.

"Why don't you just go home?"

"Because, after being verbally reprimanded by all of the division heads simultaneously, one shouldn't call in sick."

"Greggo, you look bad."

"If I only had a nickel for every time I've heard that I could retire in Fiji."

"Sara will be back soon, get a ride home with her."

"No."

"Listen to me. Amy will cover for you until I can locate a temp."

"No," Greg said, heading for the door. Nick jogged a few steps until he caught him.

"You're just going to make yourself sick. You're not sleeping, when's the last time you ate?"

"Nick, I'm ignoring you now," Greg said starting to feel his temper flare. "It'll be easier once you stop talking."

"You need to stop."

"No, I need to get to work," Greg said turning on him as they reached the lab. Amy, just inside the door was watching with interest.

"Amy, help me out here? He can't work like this." Nick implored.

"Didn't you sleep at all?" she asked looking Greg over once for confirmation.

"Okay, doesn't involve you," Greg said to Amy and then wheeled on Nick. "Actually, doesn't involve you either. Just give me the changeover Amy and you can go."

Amy looked at Nick, unsure if she should do it or not. Earlier it had been an idle threat.

"Listen," Greg barked at her, "I may have lost my old job but I still have seniority over you. Now give me the changeover."

"Three samples under the hood, CODIS is searching for a match from the swabs you took yesterday and I just cleared two blood samples for a case Grissom's on." Amy answered, her face was blank but her eyes were sharp.

"Thank you," Greg replied, still just as angry as before.

Amy said nothing more, just gave him a very tight smile and pushed the clipboard into his chest as she walked out of the lab. Nick stepped out of her way, looking down and shaking his head.

"Greg…"

"Don't. Okay, just don't."

Nick didn't say anything more, just followed down the hall after Amy.

He felt bad, but he didn't go after them. Greg didn't mean to snap at his friends. Didn't want them angry at him, knowing they were only trying to help. And they were right. He really shouldn't be working right now, not like this. In all honesty, he couldn't even remember the drive to work.

Turning around, Greg scanned the lab with a frown.

"She didn't," he mumbled under his breath. But she most definitely did.

Near as he could figure, Amy must be as much of a control freak as he was or last night had been incredibly slow. Greg, checking the cabinets and counters, couldn't believe it. She'd actually taken the time to rearrange everything back to where she'd had before he'd moved it all yesterday.

Shaking his head, angry again, he started moving the supplies once more out of the cabinets and back to where he knew they belonged.

"What's going on?" Sara asked from the door. Two days in a row now he'd been caught waist deep in a cabinet on the floor. This time he didn't bump his head getting out.

"I'm cleaning."

"Not this," Sara said, waving an arm through the lab, "with you."

At his clueless expression, she stepped in closer. Greg saw that she was upset too, saw it in her eyes. Sara rarely let the emotion get out onto her face, but the warning signs were all there. She was getting ready to explode.

"Amy is crying," she said in a tight whisper.

"Oh man," Greg said, running a hand across his neck. "I didn't… I'm sorry…"

"It's not me you should be saying sorry too."

"Where is she?" he asked feeling really terrible now.

"Not yet," Sara said, stopping him before he got out of the lab, "Just give her some time. I think she's more angry then upset."

Greg rubbed and hand across his eyes, nodding in agreement.

"Besides, Nick might take your head off," Sara said without further comment. "What happened?"

"Let's just say that there were questions about my ability to do my job."

Sara looked at him, really looked for the first time. She'd been too angry before to notice, but Greg looked dead on his feet.

"So you didn't get back to sleep."

"No, but Warrick did tuck me in like you asked."

"Greg," she said with a sigh, "I didn't like leaving you alone after that. I should have told you first."

"No, you should have asked me first. I can take care of myself."

"I don't want a fight right now," she said, knowing that's what this was building too.

"Fine, we won't fight. Just let me get to work."

"What, rearranging the lab? Again? Greg, you need rest. This is not normal."

"No, I need everyone to stop telling me what to do."

"Have it your way then," she said turning to go. Sara now just as angry as the rest.

Greg, an hour later and having finished his reorganization, felt much calmer but not any better about himself. He couldn't remember being this tired before, ever. Not even when he'd been cramming for finals his last year of college. It was so bad, like his blood had been replaced with lead.

Unable to stop himself, and really without knowing he'd done it, he fell asleep.

Sophia, looking for her results, found him there just before eleven. Greg, sitting in his chair with his head buried in his arms resting on the lab table. Snoring even. She shook his arm lightly and said his name.

"What?" he asked with a jump on her third attempt.

She just smiled and waited for it to dawn on him.

"Was I asleep?" he asked suddenly getting to his feet and checking his watch. Sure enough, almost two hours were gone.

"It's tough adjusting from graveyard to days," was all she said.

Greg, despite her friendliness yesterday, had expected a reprimand.

"It won't happen again, I've just, yeah. It hasn't been easy."

Sophia nodded, but said nothing more.

"You probably want your results."

Now she smiled.

"Okay," Greg said turning around and regaining his bearings. "Looks like you've got a near hit."

"Near?" she asked, looking at him with surprise.

"Yeah," he said showing her the print out. "The swap you took off of Davies didn't match, but the genetic make up is similar. Very similar. I'd say you were looking for this guy's brother."

Sophia nodded at him, taking the results and thanking him before starting to go.

"You know," she said, stopping at the door and getting his attention once more. "I'm heading out to a scene after I call the detective about Mr. Davies' brother here. Nothing noteworthy just a hit and run on the east side. Why don't you grab your gear and come with me?"

"Is this some kind of cruel joke?" Greg asked, not nearly as amused as he sounded.

"No," she answer, her face set.

"Well, I can't. I'm working here. You were on the board remember?"

"You didn't go into the field as a lab tech?"

"Yeah, sometimes but only because Grissom knew I wanted too."

Sophia continued to fix him with a stare. It made him a bit uneasy, like she was questioning him her eyes.

"It's not like Ecklie is going to let me."

"Ecklie is off today."

She didn't have to say anymore. He understood. Greg smiled at her as way of an answer. Not just smiled, grinned.


	12. Easy

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Chapter 12: Easy**

Sophia had been right, the case was pretty cut and dry but Greg was just glad to be out doing something. The more he talked with Sophia the more he liked her. She could be a bit distant but it wasn't anything an hour's conversation couldn't overcome. He liked her even more when she'd suggested picking up coffee on the way back. Despite the cat nap in the lab, Greg wasn't anywhere near up to speed.

They got back in around two and after quickly catching up on his work it the lab, he was happy to see the swing shift tech roll in. Greg wasted very little time on formalities, simply read off what was going on and signed himself out. But he didn't leave the building. Not yet.

First, he wasn't sure what was waiting for him back home. Sara had been mad. Really, really mad. Greg didn't feel like walking in to that just yet. Second, he wanted to do some research on Dr. Sanchez's case. Nothing to do with processing the evidence, he'd leave that alone as he'd been told too. Greg was interested in connecting the crimes. Positive that Cath and Warrick were on the right track, but the two year span didn't seem right.

Greg spent nearly three hours pouring through case files of unsolved crimes matching the basic description. Finally satisfied he'd found something more, he jotted down their numbers and hastily wrote a note to Warrick, shoving it into the vents of his locker.

Knowing he should probably go straight home, he didn't. Greg stopped to eat first before the big face off. It was closing in on eight before he got to his door that night.

Whatever he'd been expecting in terms of a fight didn't happen. Sara wasn't there. It didn't look like she'd been there all day either. Despite how the day had turned out for him at work, he'd still been angry. Angry with the three of them, Sara especially, for treating him like a child.

Up until now.

Greg sat down on his couch and tried to figure out what was wrong with him. It was probably the lack of sleep that was making him so edgy but he couldn't be sure. Tomorrow he was only working half a day in the afternoon with an appointment scheduled with Dr. Tracey in the morning. They were doing the third bone marrow tap. If this one was clean he'd be officially in remission. She'd also likely want to talk to him about Dr. Sanchez and about getting a new psychiatrist.

Dozing again, this time on the couch, Greg didn't even fight it. He awoke an hour later to the sound of the front door opening.

"You're back," he called to her without turning round.

"I stayed at my place today," she said sitting in the chair beside the couch. "I figured if you did leave early you might want some time alone first."

"I was pretty mad."

She nodded looking down, not letting him read her. Sara was pretty mad herself.

"And unreasonable," he added after a pause. She gave him a wry smile. "I should have listened to you, all of you. I know you're only trying to help."

"No one is trying to tell you how to live your life."

"I know, I do. I forget is all."

Sara smiled a more genuine smile at him.

"We worry. I worry."

Greg reached over and took her hand, squeezing it in his.

"I don't like fighting with you," he said seriously. Much more seriously then he usually sounded. His eyes reflected it.

"Me either," she answered.

Greg gently tugged on her hand, beckoning her over. Sara some what reluctantly joined him on the couch. He locked eyes with her, trying hard to judge how much he'd screwed things up, but couldn't tell. If she'd been angry, she wasn't showing it now. They sat nearly nose to nose in silence for a moment, just staring into each others eyes. A small smile played on her lips, but he still looked somber.

"I have a hard time sometimes," he started as he smoothed back her hair with his hands. "Sometimes, just letting people help me. I don't like to ask."

"You don't have to ask," she said, no longer smiling. His hands were still in her hair, holding on tight as she brought hers to his face. "No one's judging you. No one's keeping score."

"It feels that way."

"But it isn't. It's not Greg. I love you just the way you are. I don't care…"

"You love me?" he asked, an odd smile suddenly lighting his face.

"Of course I do," she answered taken back by his change.

"You've never said that before." He was still smiling at her funny.

She laughed at him.

"I haven't?"

"No. I'd remember that."

Again, she laughed. It was a nervous laugh, like she was trying to brush it off. Sara knew she hadn't said it before and she knew why. It scared her a little. She'd felt it long before now, but saying it was different from feeling it. Saying it made it real.

Greg didn't notice any of her turmoil. He was too happy to notice. He'd said it before to her and meant it. Really meant it. Part of him had been bothered that she'd never said it back, but he never pushed her too. He knew how she felt even if she hadn't said it, but still, hearing it was so much better. Was in a way, such a relief.

So he kissed her. Before she could say or do anything more, he kissed her. Again and again, just needing to be close. Sara didn't stop him, didn't want too. What was between them was always intense. After months it should have been nearly routine, but it never was. Each time he kissed her it was always passionate. Always as if he'd never tasted her lips before.

Greg began trailing kisses down her neck as he pulled her even closer. Tugging on her shirt with one hand as the other explored her back. Sara had already begun to undo the buttons on his shirt. Had nearly gotten it completely undone when the phone rang. It was her cell.

"Let it ring," he whispered hoarsely into her ear, still kissing her softly near her hairline, "just let it ring this once."

"I can't," she said kissing him once more on the lips before untangling herself from him, "It's probably Nick about the case we're on."

Greg let her go, reluctantly, and watched her cross the room to answer her phone.

"Sidle," she said into it after taking a deep breath.

Greg stood as well, heading for the kitchen to get a drink. Giving her some privacy.

"Yeah, no problem," he heard her saying.

He poured himself some juice making a mental inventory of his fridge. It was nearly bare so it must be time to shop. Only thing left was the juice, which he'd finished and Sara's yogurt.

"I'll meet you there."

She'd hung up and was now in the doorway watching him.

"I've got to go," she said somewhat apologetically.

"Can't even wait ten minutes?" he asked sounding hopeful.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Five if we hurry."

Sara laughed but wasn't biting.

"Sorry but no. I've got to meet Nick at the precinct. Got a suspect in custody. Can't wait. But, I'm coming home early tonight."

"Really?" he asked, putting down his glass and crossing the room to her.

"Yes, I've already cleared it because I'm going to take you tomorrow to your appointment."

"What time will you be back?" he asked, putting his hands back on her hips and pulling her close.

"Probably two."

"And if I wait up?" he asked hopefully.

"Don't," she said seriously. "You need to sleep."

Greg looked down as she said this.

"But," she said, bringing his chin up with her index finger, "maybe I can wake you up. Let you know I'm home."

They both leaned in, kissing softly as they met each other half way.

"But really," Sara said pulling back reluctantly, "I have to go. Right now."

"Okay, just be safe then," he said as he let her go out of his arms. "And play nice with the other kids."

"Look whose talking," she said laughing as she reached for her things.

"Sara," he called as he heard the door open.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

She smiled and looked at her feet.

"I love you too."

Greg was grinning again. Watching her go. Twice in one day, really happy.

He got in and out of the shower quickly. Greg was still tired but briefly entertained the thought of waiting up for Sara despite what she'd said. He hadn't though. Greg had ended up in bed just before eleven completely exhausted. No sooner then he'd shut his eyes then he'd fallen into a deep sleep.

Sara had come home as she'd said she would, just after two. She'd even tried to wake him, but couldn't. After several days of little to no sleep he was out cold. Instead Sara crawled in bed beside him. It felt safe and natural. Easy. Being with Greg was easier then she'd ever thought it could be.

Loving him was easy too. 


	13. Notes

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Chapter 13: Notes **

At work that same night Warrick had been surprised to find the note Greg had left for him. He knew immediately who it was from despite it only containing two case file numbers. Greg's handwriting was distinctive. Neat, compact and always printed in capital letters. For years Warrick had marveled at how different the man was from his own handwriting. Tonight he wasn't just marveled, he was amazed.

Warrick pulled up the two case files and looked through them before Catherine had arrived. By the time she had, he'd already begun to think along with Greg that these two were related. The first case listed was a year and a half old, the second just under a year. That would make five total, over the course of two years, all roughly six months apart.

"What are you looking at?" Catherine asked as Warrick had displayed the first new victim onto the overhead.

"Look familiar?"

"Very."

Warrick read the case history to her. It was similar. The first was of an older Hispanic woman, a nurse. Like Dr. Sanchez, she'd been strangled in her home. Like Dr. Sanchez's home, there had been no signs of forced entry. The victim, Juanita Juarez was also found partially stripped on her bed in a near perfect inverted cross position. She'd also had her underwear stuffed into her mouth like Dr. Sanchez. No prints or DNA at the scene, but three unidentified natural fibers were found on the body.

"So how'd we miss this?" Catherine asked.

"There were a lot of cases to go through. No telling."

"What else?" she asked, seeing the second file sitting nearby.

Warrick switched the photographs, this time the victim was much younger. Still a kid almost. He read off the file again to Catherine. Sixteen year old Jaime Taylor found in north Vegas near where it looks like the first victim, the Jane Doe prostitute had been found.

"Runaway?" Catherine asked.

"No, but pregnant. Six weeks. Parents identified her; she'd gone missing from school one day, dead the next."

Catherine looked at the crime scene photos. Again, no DNA recovered. She looked like she'd struggled, strangled but more bruised then they'd seen before. Interestingly enough, her shoes were missing.

"What's this?" Cath asked, indicating a post-it note stuck onto one of the pictures.

"Don't know," Warrick said, "Haven't gotten there yet."

The post it only had two words on it, 'what's that', with an arrow indicating a wall near by the body where it looked as if graffiti had been scrawled. It wasn't readable, but written in large block letters.

"You haven't gotten there yet. Didn't you dig these up?" she asked before really looking at the note.

Warrick shrugged.

"This is Greg's handwriting. Did he find these?"

She hadn't sounded angry.

"He might have done some independent research."

Catherine nodded and put the photo onto the overhead so they could get a better look. It wasn't a good shot, but there was something written near the body. If they were lucky, whatever had been written near the body was still intact.

"Well," Catherine said closing the files. "Care to take a drive?"

* * *

Amy, in the lab, was still upset. She'd gone home that day angry about Greg's attitude, but that wasn't what was upsetting her now. He'd done it again. Completely rearranged the lab while she was gone. The first time she'd thought it was cute, like a joke and had undone it all to play along. She hadn't expected him to do it again.

Mumbling and riffling through boxes was how Nick found here when he arrived on duty. Found wasn't exactly right. He'd only heard her as he stepped into the lab.

"Amy?" he asked, a bit confused at where she could be. The place wasn't that big. But as Greg could only manage to get part of the way into the cabinets, Amy practically fit inside.

"What?" she called out, her voice muffled. "Just leave it on the counter and I'll get to it in a minute."

Nick walked around to the other side of the counter, squatting down and smiling at her protruding feet.

"Are you hiding?"

"Ha, ha," she said dryly, still rummaging about.

"Okay, so not hiding," he replied, "What are you doing then?"

"Restocking."

"Looks full to me."

"It is," she said, crawling out backwards and kneeling down still in front of the cabinets, "just not correctly. Damn him. I really think he's serious."

"I'm not following you."

"Greg," she said flatly and in a way that marked she still hadn't gotten over their argument. "He keeps rearranging things on his shift. It's driving me crazy. It took months to get things like I like them."

Nick laughed.

"It's not funny."

"Yes, it is."

"No. I need things to be where I left them. It took me half an hour to find the Petri dishes today. He had them on the top shelf. I can't even reach the top shelf."

Nick was positively rolling now.

"It's not funny," she said, hitting him lightly in the arm.

"Is that why my results aren't done?" he asked, still laughing. "Because you're short."

"I am not short."

"Excuse me," someone else had said from above them.

The new voice surprised them both. Looking up, there was Grissom, leaning over the counter looking down at the both of them.

Nick, no longer laughing, got to his feet quickly before giving Amy a hand up.

"I'll come back for those results later," Nick said, making a very quick exit.

Amy shot him a look as he left, imploring him to stay, to which he smirked at her from the other side of the glass. She was on her own now.

"You're probably here for that DNA comparison," Amy said recovering herself, and stepping over several boxes to get to the print out.

"Here," she said handing it off to him. "They matched. It's your girl or her evil identical twin. 99.9875 percent certain."

Grissom hardly looked at the print out, was instead surveying the room. Just like he'd seen before with Greg, boxes were everywhere. Supplies of all types were strewn about.

"I'm doing some cleaning," Amy said as an explanation.

"Give me a minute," Grissom said quickly leaving the room. Amy watched him go with interest. She thought he might be coming back with her pink slip, considering she'd single handedly wrecked the lab and was found giggling on the floor moments earlier, she wouldn't have been at all surprised.

But he didn't.

He came back quickly and set a box down in front of her.

"It's a label maker," she said looking it over, waiting for something more.

"Exactly."

* * *

The next morning Greg made it to his appointment on time. Sara dropped him off to do the grocery shopping and promised to be back in under an hour. She never went into his appointments with him. It felt like an evasion of his privacy.

The tap itself was moderately painless. They gave him a local and took the marrow from his hip. It made him sore for a day or two, but nothing too bad. Lumbar punctures were much worse. Greg was glad he wasn't getting one today.

After they'd gotten the marrow he waited for Dr. Tracey in her office. He hadn't seen her since the day of his review and she was anxious to ask him how it had gone. Disappointed he'd temporarily lost his position at work she was otherwise pleased with his general health.

As expected, she wanted him to begin therapy again.

It hadn't been easy for her to talk about. Dr. Sanchez was a good friend of hers, but she was concerned for Greg's well being. Dr. Tracey was a good physician. She knew that it wasn't just about the physical well being, but the mental too.

She recommended Dr. Fenton to him.

Dr. Fenton had been a colleague of Dr. Sanchez's. They'd known each other for years and he had agreed to take on some of her clients. He'd specifically requested Greg's and having no objections of his own, Greg agreed to meet with him.

Dr. Tracey set up the initial session for Friday afternoon at three o'clock.

Before he left she promised him his results on Monday. She wished him luck and felt that there was a good probability that he'd gotten through the worst of it. Instinct lead her to believe that he was in remission, science just needed to prove it.

* * *

Sara and Greg had a quick lunch before he went into work. It was just after noon when he arrived. Stopping first at his locker he was surprised to find a note fall out of it. It contained one line in Catherine's handwriting.

'Come in tonight with Sara.'

Greg tucked in into his pocket and headed to the lab.

Relieving the temp who'd filled in for him, the first thing Greg did was look at the cabinets and wonder if he had time to redo everything he knew Amy had undone in his absence.

Today he didn't have too.

Smiling, he ran his hand across the table counter. There had always been three large cabinets under the table top. Now there were three large labeled cabinets under the table. Sanders, Thompsen and Chen. Days, swings and mids.

Greg opened his and found it just as he'd left it with one exception.

On the inside of his door was an additional label with one word on it. A question really. 'Truce'

Chuckling at Amy's unique problem solving skills, Greg looked for the label maker she'd used. Finding it nearby on the desk, he broke it out to make his response.


	14. Making Connections

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Notes of Thanks and Holiday Cheer:** BlondeNeko, BeyondMyStar, Miss-Andromache, fading-lights, ThreeDollarBill, white rose01, Mrs. Szmanda, and A Bloom – as always I read and heed every review. I'm really starting to become a bit of a review addict. Thank you so much for taking the time to share with me your thoughts and feelings about this story. I'm humbled and grateful. : )

As I have finally figured out the exact path this story is to take, the chapter writing will hopefully go faster. I'm glad everyone likes my version of Sophia. A large chunk of this story came out of her and Greg's interaction in 'No Humans Involved' especially considering he'd mentioned that he didn't know how he'd react in her position. I decided to give him the chance.

And for the record, I do not personally think ten years is all that big of a difference. My husband and I are five years apart; it really just depends on the people involved. I'm having the best time writing Amy's part since she's my own creation. A lot of my friends are piece milled into her, but she seems to have her own life now.

Additionally – happy holidays to all!

**Chapter 14: Making Connections**

Amy was once more on the floor of the lab giggling.

She'd come into work and found Thompsen in a good mood for once. He never was, but apparently he really enjoyed the new cabinet spaces. In all the time she'd worked there, relieving him on shift, it was the first time he'd said anything nice to her. Okay, so it was just a mumbled 'about time' as he pointed them out, but it still felt good.

But that wasn't what caused her current good mood.

Upon opening her own carefully labeled cabinet, affixed inside the door was a message from Greg.

_I Really Don't Deserve This But I Take What I Can Get Because I'm No Fool_

_or_

_A Haiku on Truce_

_by_

_G Sanders_

_most days I can keep_

_my mouth shut, but not always;_

_I must have good friends_

He'd written it out using the label maker.

"So?"

Amy looked up; glad it wasn't Grissom this time.

"I'm never taking this down you know," she said with a smile. Greg smiled back at her.

"Good, because it's true."

"No," she said, getting back to her feet and shutting the door on his poetry. "You were tired and stressed. I'd be snappy too in your position."

"I am sorry for that."

"Thank you," she said, getting her work station ready. "But I have to ask, why haiku?"

"I can't rhyme. I tried mind you, most of the day. It was all really bad. Interestingly enough, not a lot rhymes with Amy or self-centered idiot."

She laughed and then looked at him as if realizing.

"What are you doing here? Because if it's just to see my reaction, wow, go get a life."

"No," Greg said laughing along with her, "but that did sting. I'm waiting on Cath. She asked me to stop in."

"You off tomorrow?"

"Sure thing," he said looking around. "You know if Nick's in tonight?"

"No, I think he's off," she answered without looking up. Greg was looking at her a little too intently when he'd asked that. Like he was snooping. "Where's Sara?"

"Staff meeting," he answered flatly, turning around once, spotting Jacqui and waving to her. "How's the lab been treating you?"

"Depends, what have you heard?" she smiled, still focusing on the task at hand. Mixing chemicals to get the needed reaction.

"I heard something good today."

She looked up at him and his goofy grin.

"Let me guess. I've finally moved on to Nick?"

"You got it in one."

"It's not true Sanders. You shouldn't believe everything you hear."

"Trust me, I know it. But it was just too good. I had to ask."

"Because you don't think we'd tell you?" she asked with an arched smile. He knew what she was getting at.

"That was different. That was…"

"Your private life," she supplied.

"No. Okay, yes. But it's not like Nick's ever been your supervisor."

"And it's not like he's ever asked me out either."

"Okay, I'll shut up now."

"Good," she said a bit briskly and Greg wondered if he'd stepped into trouble again.

"There you are," Catherine called from the door. "We're in the AV room."

Greg said goodbye to Amy, wishing he'd had more of a chance to talk with her but glad to be moving on. He wasn't sure what Catherine wanted. Maybe she just to yell at him for getting himself involved in her case. The only thing to do now was to get it over with, good or bad.

Opening the door, Greg was surprised everyone was there. The whole team, Nick too, even though it was his night off.

"It's not my birthday," Greg said a bit confused.

"We know," Catherine answered, shutting the door behind them.

"Greg," Grissom started, "while technically you can't be involved in this, what you do on your own time isn't anyone's business."

"Okay."

"Have a seat," he said before beginning to talk.

Grissom went over the entire Sanchez case. He ran through the four additional murders that they now believed were connected. Catherine and Warrick interjected as needed, filling them in on some details that were new to Sara, Nick and Greg. Similarities between the five cases, along with the differences.

The first and third victims were found in adjacent lots. The other three were each killed in their homes. The five female victims had been strangled, only Evan Jacobsen, Angie Jacobsen the fourth victims son had been drown. Two of them, Dr. Sanchez and Nurse Juarez had had their own underwear stuffed in their mouths. They had very little forensic data to go off of.

"On a hunch," Catherine said casting a glance at Greg, "Warrick and I revisited the dump site where Jaime Taylor was found."

She put up a new picture on the overhead. It was of the wall Greg had spotted, the words faded some with time, but still visible.

"This was two feet from our victim, just above her on the wall. It was probably overlooked as graffiti, but considering Dr. Sanchez, I don't think that it's a coincidence."

It was one word. 'WHORE' It was written in the same large block letters that had been carved into Dr. Sanchez.

There wasn't much more to say. Grissom dismissed them all; there were other cases to work on too. Greg asked Nick for a ride home. He'd ridden in with Sara, who he'd just seen off, and didn't feel like sticking around the whole night. That and they needed to clear the air between them.

"You apologize to Amy yet?" Nick asked as they made their way down the hall. Typical, he never was concerned about his own feelings in these matters.

"In epic fashion."

"Good."

"I'd have written you a poem too, but that would have been weird."

Nick stopped and looked at him oddly.

"You wrote her a poem?"

Greg nodded in response.

"What?" he asked as Nick just continued to stare at him.

"Just when I think I've got you all figured out."

"Yeah, I'm an enigma."

Nick laughed.

"You hungry?" he asked before they'd passed the lab.

"I'm not starving," Greg answered, "but I could eat."

"Great," he continued on. "Let's see if Amy wants to take her break now. We'll all grab a bite at the diner down the street."

"Okay," Greg said smiling as he continued to follow Nick down the hall, "but I'm not chaperoning every night."

"What?"

"Nothing, never mind," Greg said dismissively. Nick didn't get it. Amy and Nick were going to dance around this forever at the rate they were going.

They stopped in, asked Amy who agreed, and were all out the door in under five minutes. Greg had wanted to bring Sara along, having a feeling he'd have no one else to talk to otherwise, but she'd already left on assignment.

Dinner was good. Greg, taking the opportunity to order a hamburger without Sara giving him one of her 'you animal killer' looks, enjoyed himself. He liked their company. As he'd expected, Nick and Amy did most of the talking, but even that wasn't bad.

After the meal they'd dropped Amy back off at the lab, watched as she'd gone in before driving off.

"So?" Greg asked.

"What?"

"Okay, play dumb. Don't tell me."

"Not you too. Sara's bad enough, but come on."

Greg laughed as he remembered the club. Sara had told him she thought Nick was sweet on Amy, but he'd mostly passed it off as an active imagination on her part. He'd laughed about it, but hadn't taken it seriously until now.

"What's wrong with her? Amy's great. Granted, she's got a lot more brains then your typical girlfriends, but you can overlook that."

"Funny. Real cute."

"Besides, I think she likes you."

"Get off it already."

"Don't believe me. I'm just telling you what my own keen observation skills have observed."

Nick laughed.

"I'll give you that part about the keen observation skills. Griss was impressed you'd spotted that wall. We were all impressed. How did you find it?"

"Luck. Lots and lots of dumb luck. And free time. God, I hate day shift," Greg said as he yawned loudly. "I've never been so tired this early in the night."

"Can't be too bad. I heard your still going out on cases."

"Yeah," Greg said, still trying to shake the tiredness off. "Sophia Curtis, she's been great. Takes me out with her when she can."

"Cool. Glad some ones watching out for you. Hate to have you get back to mids and not remember a thing about collecting."

"Well, don't count on it."

"It's like riding a bike. You're not going to forget it," Nick said reassuringly.

"I meant don't count on me coming back. I think the key is to be just incompetent enough for them to not want to keep me in the lab, but not so completely clueless that they end up firing me."

Nick laughed as he pulled the jeep up to Greg's apartment complex.

"I wouldn't try anything desperate yet."

"Why? You know something I don't?" Greg asked hopefully.

"Just that Grissom hasn't completely given up on reversing the board's decision."

Greg nodded gratefully.

"Well, I won't hold my breath but remind me to thank him for trying."

"Will do," Nick said as Greg got out.

"We okay?" Greg asked, still worried Nick might be holding a grudge about the other day. "I was being a pretty big jerk."

"Don't worry about it."

"Alright then, see you later." Greg said walking away and up the stairs to his place.

Nick waved once and left.

Greg, once inside, wasn't as tired as he had been. Instead, he sat down to think over the Sanchez case. He didn't have anything more to go off of, not even a case file, but he still rehashed it

Warrick had been right; all of these women were seemingly unrelated. They weren't the same ages, or ethnicities or even from the same social backgrounds. But there had to be something. Something was there connecting them, they just didn't know what yet. The killer had picked them all for specific reasons. If he could find the connection, so could they.


	15. Telling Secrets

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Chapter 15: Telling Secrets**

Friday came and with it Greg's first visit to his new psychiatrist. He'd been a little nervous about the whole thing. Granted, he'd been nervous about meeting Dr. Sanchez for the first time too, but not this badly.

Now he knew what to expect.

Despite Sara's insistence of at least accompanying him to the lobby, Greg wanted to go alone. He worked nearly a full day at the lab, leaving a little early to make the three o'clock session. This time round he didn't make the same mistake. He'd informed Ecklie the very day of Dr. Tracey recommendation. For all the fuss they'd gone through when he hadn't told anyone, he'd expected a bigger deal to be made about it. In fact, all Ecklie asked was that he try to keep his appointments outside of his work hours, or in the very least as late in the day as possible.

Again, he was about ten minutes early. The office complex that Dr. Fenton's office resided was similar to that of Dr. Sanchez. Actually in the same neighborhood, two blocks over. The waiting room was done in the same simple style. Greg briefly wondered if there was a book on the subject, decorating to soothe the soul or something similar, that was required reading upon obtaining your diploma in this particular field. Like a handbook or something.

He didn't have long to wait. Dr. Fenton had come to the door and ushered him in no sooner then he'd sat down.

If their waiting rooms had been similar, it was were the similarities began and ended. Dr. Fenton's office was nothing like Dr. Sanchez's. It was what Greg had originally expected. Very modern, sleek and somehow sterile. It reminded him of the morgue, but he didn't put too much thought into it. He figured that it was just the difference between men and women. He hardly expected a man to have a 'cozy' office.

"Mr. Sanders, it's nice to meet you," he said as he held out a hand to him. Greg took it and nodded once. Dr. Fenton was a tall man, at least six foot two and looked like he was in good shape. He was at least forty, but he seemed older. His eyes were a sharp blue, nearly electric and he had neatly groomed thin blond hair. "Come inside and we'll get underway."

Greg followed him further into the room and sat down as indicated.

"Would you like something to drink first?"

"Water is fine," Greg said, sitting up a little straighter. Man he was nervous.

"Here you go," he said handing him a glass and sitting down nearby. "I've reviewed your file. Dr. Sanchez was a remarkably astute woman, very well documented, but if you don't mind I'd like to rehash some things with you. Hear it for myself."

"Okay," Greg said. He hadn't touched the water, choosing instead to put it down, and put his hands in his lap. "Where should we begin?"

"How about you tell me what brought you here today?"

Greg smiled inwardly. It was almost exactly what Dr. Sanchez had asked. There probably was a handbook.

"Well, about a year ago I would have said I was forced into this, but now I think I need it. It's been good for me to talk to someone not so closely involved in my life."

"You have a hard time then, relying on people?"

"No, not really. Sometimes. I don't like to bother them with my problems."

"What types of problems do you have?"

"Well, you've read the file. I've been dealing with leukemia for the last year."

"Aside from that."

Greg took a sip of the water.

"I don't know, life stuff. I don't like people involved if they don't have to be."

"Give me an example."

"Okay, once when I first moved here and hadn't been working at the lab very long my car broke down. I worked graveyard shift and the buses didn't run that late in my neighborhood, so I walked. It was about seven miles one way. Not the smartest thing I'd ever done. I had to leave like two hours earlier then I should have just to be sure I'd get there on time."

"How long did you do that for?"

"Well, I was just out of college and didn't really have the money to get my car fixed, so about a month. I could have asked my parents, but I didn't want to bother them. I wanted to take care of it on my own."

"And no one caught on?"

"No, they did. One night I got mugged on my way in."

"What did you do?"

"To the mugger? Nothing. I grew up in the bay area, I knew enough not to fight back. I just gave him my money and let him go."

"Were you hurt?"

"Yeah, he punched me in the face because I only had ten bucks. It wasn't too bad."

"Then what?"

"Well, I went to work."

"Hurt? After being robbed?" Dr. Fenton actually sounded surprised. It made Greg laugh a little.

"I didn't know what else to do. I mean, I worked with cops so I could have reported it, but really it was only ten bucks. It didn't seem worth the time."

"And what did your boss say when you got there, presumably bloody?"

"I was a mess and I don't do blood very well. Especially my own. Luckily he didn't see me like that. I'd changed in the locker room and cleaned up as best as I could. But it's not like I could hide two black eyes. The guy got me square in the nose. Grissom, he was my boss then, he took me aside and asked what had happened. When I told him, at first he thought I'd been car jacked and was going to call one of the detectives over to get a statement. So, I had to tell him the truth."

"About walking?"

"Yeah, everything. He was pretty mad with me, and that's a feat. He doesn't get mad easily. That morning he gave me a ride home and made me promise to call him when it was time to go get my car."

Dr. Fenton wrote down something on his pad, nodding his head.

The rest of the session was pretty much along those lines. Dr. Fenton had gotten a basic feel for Greg's personality and potential problems. It had gone fairly well. Greg left feeling that he didn't like him as much as he had Dr. Sanchez, but wouldn't have a problem coming back again.

He made another appointment for the following Tuesday at five in the evening. He'd explained his work situation and Dr. Fenton had no problem seeing him so late in the day.

Greg thanked him and left.

When he arrived back at his place Sara was still sleeping. Resisting the urge to just crawl into bed beside her, he opted instead to make dinner. She was off again that night, second Friday in a row, and they'd talked earlier about going to a movie.

He wasn't a great cook but could put together a fairly decent meal if pressed. He decided on stir fry and rice since it was the easiest and quickest to make. Half way done and he'd heard Sara waking up in the next room and heading into the shower.

"Hey," she said just as he'd about gotten everything to the table. She gave him a peck on the cheek and sat down.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you sleep this late."

"I got in late, nearly noon. Grissom and I were tracking down a stray cat. Don't ask."

Greg laughed a little but didn't press, just started to dig into the food.

"Oh, but we got somewhere last night," Sara said, sounding excited.

"Sanchez case?"

"Yes," she continued. "Actually, Amy got something. Since Hodges isn't doing trace on this one, she took a look at it, she's actually pretty good. Took a look at those fibers found at two of the scenes."

"And? Did she match them?"

"Yes. They were paper fibers, wood pulp. Like the kind you'd find in a mill or if someone made their own."

"But, how does that help?"

"Honestly," Sara said, still smiling as she ate, "not much right now. But the fibers matched exactly so it connects the crimes. Gives us more insight into who's behind it."

Greg nodded, seeing her point.

"Anything else good?" he asked.

"Nothing. Slow night until that cat chase. What about you?"

"Bored stupid all day. Had a nice little chat with Ecklie about my mental stability to which he told me to basically keep it to myself and off of company time."

Sara rolled her eyes in disgust. Never having been a favorite of hers, now she really loathed him.

"And the session?" she asked uncertainly. It wasn't something they'd ever talked about before. Before she hadn't known he'd gone and now that she did she wasn't sure if it was a taboo topic.

"Not so bad. He's different. It'll probably take awhile before I get comfortable with him."

Sara nodded in agreement or at least in an attempt to understand. She didn't really. Still wondered why he couldn't just talk to her but didn't fight it. Like it or not, the tension was back in the room.

Greg knew she wouldn't ask, would never ask exactly what he'd talked about. He almost wished she would. He wasn't sure what he'd tell her, maybe the truth. It depended on what he'd actually said that day. Today he could tell her the truth, without doubt.

"Still want to go to the movies tonight?" he asked, trying to move on to another topic.

"Yeah, sounds good. What's playing?"

They talked it over for a few minutes more, their tastes were radically different concerning these things. Eventually Greg agreed to see the movie Sara wanted, almost entirely because he was starting to feel guilty. Like he was keeping secrets from her and he didn't like that feeling.

They got ready and left not too long afterwards, deciding to walk around the mall beforehand. She wanted to buy some new clothes and he needed running shoes. On their way out the door, just as they were leaving, he decided he was being stupid.

"Hey Sara," he said, still fumbling with the lock. "Did I ever tell you about the first time I got mugged?"

She looked at him funny for a moment. It was as if he'd pulled the topic out of thin air. Sara had gotten accustomed to it since they'd been together, most of their conversations tended to start like that. At least most of their better ones.

"No, but by first do you mean you've been mugged more then once?"

"Three times actually. But you never forget your first."

Greg had said it like it was a joke, but she didn't really find it that funny.

"Okay," she said, sensing that she should just play along. "Tell me about it."

And Greg did. Just like he had told Dr. Fenton hours earlier. It hadn't been as hard as he'd thought it would and now he found the story itself much more amusing. It didn't seem as big of a deal now. She'd chastised him lightly for not just asking for a ride, but understood his predicament. When she'd been new she'd done a lot of things she wouldn't have normally just because she didn't want to put anyone out either. Telling her had been easy and it made him feel a hundred percent better. Greg had found a way of telling Sara his secrets without her having to ask.


	16. Resolution

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Chapter 16: Resolution **

The weekend had been excruciatingly slow. Greg, now at work, continuously watched the clock. He had a late appointment with Dr. Tracey to discuss his test results and a whole day to wait. It was the worse Monday ever.

Completely caught up in the lab and with nothing else to do, Greg decided to review his school books. Last year he had to drop the courses he'd begun for his master's degree, but he'd kept the materials. It might be tempting fate a bit, but if the tap did come back clean he wanted to be ready to start back immediately. He was nearly done with the course and had aspirations of achieving his doctorate in chemistry.

"With everything I'd heard about you, I didn't expect to ever see you in here reading."

Greg looked up from his books and smiled at Sophia.

"I'm killing time. Lab works caught up and I've got a long day ahead of me."

Sophia leaned down to read the title off of the cover.

"That's going to make it shorter?"

"No," Greg answered honestly, "it can get a little dull. It's more fun in practice, not theory."

"So I take it your in need of a distraction."

"Desperately."

"Ever go out for a bomb threat?"

"Seriously," he said, sitting up now fully alert.

"Get your case and change into full gear. No gun."

"Like they'd give me one," Greg said, putting down his things and making sure to lock the computer.

"Meet me in the garage in ten minutes."

Greg wasted no time getting down to the locker room. He switched to one of his better long sleeve shirts, reprimanding himself mentally for slacking and wearing t-shirts again on the job, before he put on his vest. He'd never turned any of his things in mainly because they'd never asked him too. Picking up his case last, he hustled down to the garage to find Sophia waiting for him.

"Where's it at?" he asked, getting in on the passengers side.

"North Vegas. A woman's clinic, happens every few months or so."

"Is it a hoax?"

"Don't know yet. Usually is. A lot of the times it's just to disrupt business. Turn on the scanner and we'll see."

Greg flipped the switch and found the right frequency. After listening to the exchange taking place between the officers on scene and headquarters, it sounded real enough.

"Okay," Sophia said after they arrived. "We stay back. Way back until it's cleared. It may take awhile, but stay alert. Check the crowd. A lot of times these people stick around to watch the commotion, like arsonists."

Greg did what he was told. There wasn't a crowd at all, but a lot of officers. The neighborhood was pretty bad and you'd never know the building was a clinic judging by its appearance. He stood back with Sophia, way back across the street, taking it all in.

While they waited they talked with the clinic supervisor, Dr. Alicia Spencer. She wasn't distraught, just angry.

"Can you believe this?" she asked them, turning back and forth trying to get a better view of the happenings.

"What did the caller say exactly?" the detective assigned, a Jake Hansen, asked her trying to bring her focus back to where he needed it to be.

"I don't remember exactly, just something about a bomb in the bathroom. That it would go off in five minutes."

"Did he give you a name or a reason?"

"He didn't have to give me a reason," she said finally turning fully to him. "I didn't need that. These nuts are all the same."

"A name then?"

"You're kidding me, right? What are you going to ask me next, if he left his social security number? Maybe a business card?"

Detective Hansen smiled politely and said he'd get back to her, mumbling under his breath as he turned his back. Greg started to turn away with him but stopped when he realized that Sophia hadn't moved.

"I'm sorry," the doctor said at Sophia's fixed gaze. Her eyes were now brimming with tears. "We've had a rough few weeks. First Laura and now this."

Greg felt his blood go cold. He knew it was a probably coincidence, but still.

"Who's Laura?" Sophia asked.

"She was one of our counselors here. We get a lot of the local psychiatrists to donate their time. Completely on a volunteer basis, we can't afford to hire a full time therapist so we have several come in when they can. Most only come in once or twice a year, makes them look good but not her. Laura wasn't like that. She came in every Friday, spent the whole day. She really cared about what she did, about helping people. Everyone really liked her."

She paused momentarily, seemingly caught up in her own emotions.

"Some sick bastard killed her in her own home."

"How long had Dr. Sanchez worked here?" Greg asked not caring that it wasn't really his place to do so.

"Four years," Dr. Spencer answered, giving him a cold appraising look. "How did you know her?"

Sophia turned to him now too, her look also appraising, but not cold.

"Professionally," Greg said in a tone the put a stop to all further inquiry.

But it was enough for her, for both of them. Dr. Spencer looks softened after she took it in.

"I just hope you guys catch whoever did it," her voice was tinged with pain as she'd said it.

"Me too," Greg agreed.

Not long after the conversation, the bomb squad cleared the building. They'd found a box with wires in the bathroom as the caller had said, but it was a dud. Nothing more then a container rigged up to look like a bomb. It was Sophia and Greg's turn now to check things out.

They'd gathered evidence in relative silence. There wasn't much too it, fortunately, as nothing had been detonated.

On the way out the door, Dr. Spencer was finally being allowed back in. She'd sent her staff home for the day and just wanted to lock up before leaving.

"We should know pretty soon if we have anything to go off of," Sophia said to her as the three of them stood in the doorway.

"I appreciate it," she answered curtly, still clearly angry and unnerved.

They moved to let her pass, and as they did heard her let out an exasperated sigh and grab the nearest waste basket. Sophia and Greg had both stopped and turned in curiosity.

"Damn things, throw them out and they still come back," she'd muttered loudly as she tossed a stack of pamphlets into the trash.

"What's that?" Sophia asked, curious as to what could make the good doctor even madder then she'd been.

"We keep getting these ridiculous things set up in the lobby. Full of information about how we're all going to hell. It's a charming read really written by narrow minded assholes who think the only service we perform here are abortions."

She held out the waste basket for them too see. Inside was about a half dozen neatly folded brochures.

"Do you mind?" Greg asked her, indicating the basket.

"Take them all," Dr. Spencer said flatly, "please."

"One's all we need," he answered, taking a collection bag from Sophia before gently lifting it out of trash with his still gloved hands.

"No wait," Sophia stopped him, "Take them all." He understood. There might be prints.

Once he had them in place, he quickly read the cover. 'Moral Decay in Our Society'.

"Is it just me or do these look homemade?" he asked Sophia, still looking them over as they got to the SUV.

"Not that hard to do, all you need is a computer and a half decent printer. Why'd you want them? Think our bomber might have left those and the package?"

"Maybe," Greg answered, but that wasn't it exactly. When he'd asked if it looked homemade, he'd meant the paper.

The ride back was silent. Just before they pulled back into the garage, Sophia finally spoke.

"I didn't know Dr. Sanchez worked at that clinic. If I had, I wouldn't have taken you."

"I didn't know it either," Greg said "but its okay. It's not like the two are connected."

Sophia said nothing further, but that by no means meant she'd agreed with him. Greg wasn't sure of it himself right now. His mind had already rapidly worked from the bomber, to the pamphlets, to the murder. She was quietly drawing the same conclusions. She knew enough about the case to know why Greg had wanted that particular piece of paper picked up.

Getting back to the lab Greg realized how late it was. He had to go now if he was going to make his appointment. Normally he would have helped Sophia rack and stack the evidence, but he quickly explained his doctor's appointment to her before signing out of the lab.

He was three minutes late getting to Dr. Tracey's office, not that she minded.

"Sorry," he apologized to her again, taking a seat.

"It's fine. You're my last appointment for the day. There's no hurry."

Greg disagreed. He was in a hurry to find out. All the anxiety he'd felt that morning was back and twice as worse.

"I was just reviewing your file. How did your session with Dr. Fenton go?"

"Good. It went pretty good," Greg answered tight lipped. His mind was still racing; he didn't have time for pleasantries. He just wanted to know.

"Well, I'm going to be calling him after we're done here. Letting him know that in my opinion, given you'll be off of chemotherapy treatment, he should discontinue your prescription to Elavil."

A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth after she'd said it but it took a full minute for Greg to realize what she'd said.

"Off of chemo?" he asked her for confirmation, nodding his head along with her response.

"Your third marrow test was clean. I want you to stop treatment immediately. No more meds."

Greg didn't know how to respond. He just buried his head into his hands in a moment of disbelief.

"Of course, you shouldn't go off the anti-depressants yet. Even though you're in remission, the chemo will stay in your system for another week or two, but I can't see why after that you should continue on with those either. Dr. Fenton will inform you when."

Greg nodded again, wiping his eyes with the palm of his hand. It was hard to remember being so happy, so completely relieved as he felt now.

"I want you back in this office in three months for another tap, possibly a lumbar puncture but we'll see how it goes. For the next two years we're going to have to keep careful track of your health."

"Got it, three months," Greg responded, hearing it but not hearing it. It felt so good. Like he was getting his life handed back to him.

Dr. Tracey had stopped talking now, realizing what he must be going through internally. She smiled at him. Really very happy to see him this way.

"Thank you," Greg said getting to his feet, knowing that was all there was to say. "It's inadequate; it doesn't nearly say everything, but thank you."

Dr. Tracey clasped hands with him.

"There's no need to say anything to me. Just go home, celebrate."

He didn't need to hear anything else. He shook hands with her and was out the door in seconds flat. 


	17. R&R

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Chapter 17: R&R**

There was hardly room in the apartment to hold everyone.

Good news travels fast. Greg had gotten home in a hurry and wasted no time telling Sara. She'd cried, much as she had when she'd first heard he'd had cancer, but in a different way. It was now pure relief.

Half an hour later neither of their phones would stop ringing. When someone couldn't reach Greg, they'd call Sara and vise versa. Sara was happily telling everyone who called the news as Greg talked to his parents in the other room. That's about the time people started arriving.

Now, three hours later, there was hardly room to sit or stand. It was still early in the night, so nearly the entire night shift had shown up. A few from day shift too. Sara had invited them all, even Sophia whom she'd never formally met. They ordered pizza, people brought drinks, it was quite an impromptu party.

"Glad to hear it man," Warrick said, making his way into the apartment to Greg before clasping him on the shoulder and once on the back. "You plan on getting evicted in celebration."

Greg laughed. He hadn't been thrown out of an apartment complex in over a year.

"It would be worth it," he said, fighting his way towards the kitchen where there was more room. "You know, I don't think I know half these people."

Warrick laughed and followed him.

"Seriously, you'd better tell them to keep it down in there. I only helped you move last time because you were sick. This time you're on your own."

Greg smiled, grabbed a soda and said nothing. He'd wanted to say that if he was evicted he'd probably just move in with Sara, but hadn't. They'd been talking a lot about it lately, about making their situation a little more permanent. Technically, this was still his apartment and she still had her own, but maybe not for long.

Warrick smiled back at Greg's quietness and knew something more was on his mind.

"You keeping secrets Sanders?"

"No," he answered dryly, but was still smiling.

"Okay, that's fine. I'm on to you."

"No idea what you're talking about," Greg said in the same non-comitial fashion.

"Congratulations," Nick cut in, just now arriving and looking first for Greg.

"Thank you," Greg responded, taking the offered hand and shaking it once.

"I think Sara's starting to kick people out," Nick commented, "You two have plans?"

"Well, aside from Sara going to work in about four hours, no."

"Tough break," Nick said, "Can't you just ask Griss to give her the night off."

"I'm not calling Grissom about that," Greg said really shocked Nick had even suggested it.

"Call? He's in the other room. Just go ask."

"He's here too?"

"What, did you think he wouldn't come?"

"I don't know, he didn't have too."

"None of us had too," Warrick put in.

"I guess you're right, I should probably go say hello" Greg said, heading back out into the living room to find a much smaller crowd. Catherine had Lindsey with her and was talking animatedly with Sara. Grissom was off by the television talking with Sophia so Greg decided to defer his welcome. The only other people in the room were Amy and Archie, having just arrived.

"I'm so happy," Amy said, rushing over and giving him a hug. "Sorry it took so long to get here."

"Tell me you didn't get all dressed up for this," Greg said somewhat seriously. Amy looked good; actually she looked great; she was out of her typical jeans and instead wearing a simple red dress. Even stranger, she was wearing make-up. Amy, the one he knew, didn't dress up for anything. Even when they'd gone to the club she'd only changed tops. And tonight she'd even done her hair. A year an a half he'd known her and he'd never seen it out of a pony tail. She'd always been pretty but tonight she looked like she could attract some serious attention.

After he said it and Amy blushed, he realized Archie was dressed nicer then usual. Greg just gave her a stupid grin and turned instead to him.

"Hey man, thanks for stopping by. You didn't have to if you had plans."

Amy was still smiling, but fixed Greg with a look and shook her head slightly letting him know that he needed to stop.

"Are you kidding?" Archie asked, always good natured. "We had to come. I wanted to ask when you'd be back on shift with us."

"Not any time soon, I'm sure. But keep your fingers crossed."

The chatted for a few minutes before Archie excused himself to talk briefly with Grissom. As soon as he stepped away, Greg looked down at Amy with a wicked grin.

"Yes, we're on a date," she said answering his accusatory looks, "It's our first, so don't let your imagination get carried away."

"That's great. He's a good guy." Greg said, even though he really thought she was more suited for someone else. Someone else who was sitting in the kitchen, oblivious.

"He's nice," was as far as she'd go. She liked Archie, they got along great, but she didn't know how this was going to work. To be honest, he'd been the only person to ask her out in all the time she'd lived her and she was starting to get desperate. It sounded horrible and cruel, but she really needed a night out. And it wasn't as if she'd completely ruled him out already. So far, the date had gone really well.

Greg seemed to have caught the drift.

"You know if you dressed like this around the lab…"

"Just stop it," she said, smiling and waving him off. "Besides, you think I could stand all night in these heels?"

Greg laughed and upon looking up saw that it was about to get interesting. Nick and Warrick were coming out of the kitchen now and headed straight towards them.

"Hi Amy," Nick said saying nothing about her appearance, but discreetly taking it in.

"Nick," she acknowledged with an awkward smile.

"Wow," Warrick said, who had less interaction with her then the two of them, but knew her well enough to skip formalities, "Amy you look great. Got a hot date or something?"

"Yeah," she said, looking fixedly at Warrick and only Warrick, "something like that. Archie and I are going to a show."

"Well, have fun. But take it easy on him. He's our only computer guy," Warrick said with a smile, walking away to talk instead with Catherine and Sara.

The awful pause that followed was blessedly short lived. Greg hadn't known whether to yell in frustration at the two of them or just burst out laughing. He didn't have to do either, Archie was back. He and Amy had to run if they were going to make the curtain so they were off. Amy gave Greg another quick hug and said a general goodbye to everyone.

Catherine left with Lindsey soon after, she had to get ready for her shift, but the rest stuck around. Gil was glad to have the opportunity. He'd been talking with Sophia about what had happened today, she'd been sort of watching over Greg for him while he was assigned to her shift. She'd told him about the clinic and in particular the pamphlets and the fact that Dr. Sanchez had worked there. Now they were all discussing it.

"Amy could run the comparisons," Sara put in. "See if the paper in the pamphlets matches the fibers on scene. Maybe get prints?"

"No prints," Sophia added, "Sorry, I already checked. Twenty-two individually folded hand-outs, and nothing. Either the materials not particularly conducive to it or it was handled with gloves."

"Well, at least it gives Cath and me something new to explore. We can look into the other victims; see if they're somehow connected to the clinic." Warrick said. "One was a nurse, right?"

"Juanita Juarez," Grissom supplied, "hers had the strongest similarities."

"Two were dumped in that general area," Nick began, "might be worth plotting the distance from the clinic to the sites."

"Did you get anything off of the bomb?" Greg asked Sophia.

"No, nothing yet. No prints at least. It was pretty generic stuff, I'm not sure they're related."

"Amy's off tonight, I could match the fibers in the morning," Greg tried.

"No," was Grissom's expected answer. "We can't have you risking it. Stay away from the evidence. It can wait until tomorrow night."

Sara gingerly rubbed his back, as he was content to only look his frustration. He wanted to be doing more then this. That was pretty much all there was too it, soon everyone said their goodbyes. Nick hung out the longest since he was off that night as well.

"How long do you think they've been together?" Nick asked when it was just him and Greg in the room. Sara had started to get ready for work.

"What?" Greg asked, confused at the question.

"Amy and Archie. How long do you think?"

"Thought it didn't matter," Greg laughed, "that you weren't interested in her."

"I'm not. I'm looking out for her is all."

"Yeah because Archie is such a cad."

"Where did you learn to talk?" Nick asked.

"During the depression."

"Funny. But seriously, did you know about them?"

"Of course I didn't. Do you think I'd be telling you to ask her out of I knew she was dating Archie?"

Nick shrugged his shoulders, admitting the point.

"But it couldn't be long now, because you'd have known."

Greg let out an exaggerated sigh as he got up to get another soda.

"So you don't know?" Nick asked from the other room.

"She told me it's their first date," Greg said as he returned.

Nick was quiet for a moment.

"I don't know if she likes him or not," Greg said, putting up a hand before Nick could ask.

"I wasn't asking," Nick said.

Greg dropped the matter and not long after Nick called it a night.

"Nicky leave?" Sara asked, having finally emerged from the bath.

"Yeah, he got tired of my pestering."

"Amy?" she asked.

"Yep," Greg answered, looking up at her from his spot on the couch.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I don't know. You look kind of down. All things considering, I kind of thought you'd still be bouncing off the walls."

Greg let out a little laugh.

"I'm good. Mellow. Just taking it in."

"Pensive Greg. I'm not sure I like that," she said as she scooted down next to him.

"It's a lot to take in," he replied and she knew what he meant.

"I can call in," she supplied.

"No. I'm fine. I'm just going to bed. I should have gone hours ago. I've got work and then another session tomorrow. I'll be dragging all day."

"Want me to tuck you in?" she asked, smiling at him with a twinkle in her eye.

"No, you'll just end up late for work. People will talk."

"They already know."

"Go, I'm fine. I'll come in early, maybe we'll catch breakfast."

"Sounds good," she said leaning in to kiss him. "Get some rest."

"I will," he said to her before saying goodbye.

And for the first time in a long time, he knew he would.


	18. MultiMedia

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Notes:** Hello to my faithful holiday reviewers: fading-lights, A Bloom, Sillie, and Miss-Andromache. Even those of you who don't celebrate – I hope you've had wonderful weekends! Yeah, I've pretty much worked myself into a writing frenzy. I just can't stop because I'm getting to the parts I really wanted to write. This isn't quite it yet, but it's close. I'm giddy with excitement and basically driving my family nuts.

A Bloom – I'm so glad you liked the 'cad' line because I loved it but almost took it several times. Now I'm glad I left it. : )

Miss-Andromache – I like Nick and Amy too. I'd never really planned it, of course I'd never planned Greg and Sara either, so who knows.

Oh and I just noticed I named two of my chapters the same. Huge, duh! I'm really bad at chapter titles. I'll fix it tomorrow. This is my last one for tonight.

Again, thanks to everyone who reads even if you don't review!

**Chapter 18: Multi-Media**

"So why don't you tell me more about your job?"

Greg took a sip of his soda and sighed.

"What do you want to know? It's kind of dull. I play with test tubes all day."

Dr. Fenton laughed a little, but wasn't going to let up.

"Seriously Greg, Dr. Tracey told me about what's happened. That can't make you feel good?"

"Being demoted. No, it didn't. It was my own fault though. I mean, if I'd of just swallowed my own pride and told Grissom…"

"I'm sorry; Grissom is your boss right?"

"Was, well sort of still is."

"Please continue."

"Yeah, well if I'd have just told him about the therapy in the first place I'd still be in my old job. I mean, I couldn't have worked the case regardless. I'm lucky they let me help at all."

"They? Grissom still lets you help, despite the demotion?"

"Him, Cath and Warrick. I'm doing some research on the side. Nothing with the actual evidence."

"Still, that shows a lot of confidence in you."

"I guess," Greg answered half-heartedly.

"You'd rather do more? Be more active despite having known…"

It was as if it dawned on him.

"I'm sorry Dr. Fenton, I forgot. I mean we talk about me so much. You knew Dr. Sanchez, this can't be easy…"

He waved Greg off.

"Dr. Sanchez and I were colleagues. We've attended seminars and lectures together but were hardly close. I'm pained by her passing, but we're here to talk about you. Don't apologize for that."

Greg nodded and took in a breath.

"It just feels like I've failed. Everything in my life right now is good. I've got an amazing girl friend who loves me and great friends. I didn't have a screwed up childhood, my parents never beat me or even said a harsh word to me. Not once. And even better, I'm cancer free. Right now, clean bill of health. But I feel like I'm floundering. Like I'm failing some kind of life test. Why is that?"

"I don't have those types of answers for you."

"Maybe there's a book I can read?"

Dr. Fenton laughed again. It put Greg at ease when he did.

"Are you a spiritual person? Religious?"

"I don't know, I guess. I was raised Catholic. It's not that I'm lapsed, it's the other one."

"Non-practicing?"

"That's it. I'm non-practicing."

"So you still hold religious beliefs?"

"You sound surprised."

"Most men of science aren't. They find their answers elsewhere."

"I'm not most men of science," Greg said with a smirk.

"This I guessed."

"It's the hair isn't it?"

* * *

Life continued on. Two weeks passed since Greg's official start of remission. He'd gone to work, continued his therapy sessions and remained on the Elavil. Dr. Fenton didn't want to risk it. He felt Greg was making progress, but not enough to attempt it yet. He'd even upped his dosage slightly, but just slightly.

The Sanchez case was going better.

As it turned out they could trace all of the women back to the clinic, except one. Their Jane Doe, although still unidentified, was a regular according to Dr. Spencer. Juanita Juarez, the nurse, had worked there for two years. She'd quit just before her murder. The sixteen year old had gone in for counseling, she had been deciding on whether or not to get an abortion. And of course, Dr. Sanchez had worked there as well. The only one they couldn't directly tie in was Angie Jacobsen and her son.

The pamphlets had also proved vital. The fibers on scene matched the type used to make the paper they'd been printed on. It was a basic wood pulp mix. Fairly common which was bad. They'd hoped for something exceedingly rare, making it easier to trace. As it was, half of Nevada used the same stock.

But it wasn't a complete dead end. Sophia had been wrong about one thing; they weren't made on a computer. The only new information they had was that their guy must own a printing press. The paper was pressed, not lased. Either he had the world's best dot-matrix high-impact printer or an actual no-kidding press.

Otherwise, there was nothing new. Until one night at two-thirty Greg got a call.

"Greg Sanders," he mumbled into his phone, dragging himself out of bed.

His eyes sprang open in shock.

"Give me ten minutes."

Greg was already moving towards his dresser before he'd shut the phone off. It had been Sara and she'd been brief. There's been another murder; he needed to get to work. He wasted no time and beat his own record. He'd gotten there in eight minutes.

Amy came out of the lab and joined him as he jogged down the hall.

"What happened?" he asked her.

"Your shirts inside out."

"I'll fix it later, what happened?"

They were the only two in the conference room.

"There's been another murder," she said and didn't have to elaborate.

"When?"

"They got the call around eight. Neighbor found her, said she was worried. Hadn't seen her in a while."

"So we know who already?"

Amy nodded.

"And?"

"It was Dr. Spencer from the women's clinic."

Greg sat down and shook his head. Catherine and Warrick had put her on alert. Warned her about the potential danger, but now it didn't seem like nearly enough. But there was no way to know this was going to happen. How could anyone have known?

"Any evidence?"

"That's why you're here," Amy said in a slightly agitated voice.

"But Ecklie…"

"Doesn't want the new girl screwing it up," she interrupted. "The press is on to it. It's on the news already. You're the best; he wants you to handle all of the DNA extraction from now on."

"Great, now I'm his favorite," Greg said really angry.

"At least he knows your name. He's still calling me Annie."

Greg laughed knowing she wasn't serious.

"When will they be back?"

"Looks like now," she answered as the door came open.

The whole team poured into the room, briefly acknowledging their presence but eager to get to business. Catherine was already handing evidence bags to Amy. Surprisingly enough, after another minute the CSI's were joined by Jacqui, Archie, Hodges and most if not all of the other techs on duty.

"I'm making this quick," Grissom said looking pretty angry himself. Angrier then Greg had ever seen him. "Who in this room is talking?"

There was absolute silence.

"Someone is talking, not directly to the press, but to someone. I don't expect a confession here and now, but I do want to know. The media was at our scene tonight asking very specific questions about this case and others involving it. They knew details…"

"Um, Grissom."

Greg nearly fell out of his chair. Amy, it was Amy, actually interrupting Grissom mid-speech.

"I've just," she started, but now that everyone was looking at her awestruck at her nerve she seemed to have lost it, "It's that, the letter."

"What letter?" he asked, now looking angry and confused.

"Channel nine received a letter. About the murders. They, um, they read excerpts from it tonight on the news. It was pretty descriptive. Accurate. Talked about the other women."

"Where is it now? Do we know?"

"In the lab," she answered, feeling a bit relieved. "An officer brought it over from the station."

Grissom nodded, clearly relieved. He'd hated thinking some one in the room was telling their secrets.

"This still holds. No one in this room talks about this case to anyone unless I clear it first."

He might have been relieved, but Greg wasn't. As soon as the meeting broke up, he followed him out ignoring completely everyone else, Sara included.

"Grissom," he said, catching him back at his office, carefully shutting the door.

"Sorry to wake you Greg. Ecklie demanded you process the evidence."

"It's not that, I don't care about that."

Greg sat down in the chair in front of the desk.

"I've screwed up again," he said somewhat unnerved. His voice was starting to sound panicked even to his own ears.

"What's this about Greg?"

"My shrink. I've been talking to my shrink. I've been telling him about the case. Details, I've been going over details of an ongoing investigation. God, it's like I get in there and stop thinking. What was I thinking?"

"Greg," Grissom said firmly fixing him with a stare.

"Am I getting fired now?" he asked, seriously hoping that wasn't true.

"Greg, what you say to your psychiatrist is protected under patient-client privilege. You can talk to him about the cases if they're what's bothering you."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Just try not to be explicit if you can help it. Besides, I doubt your psychiatrist is running to the press and if he is you can probably win a very large settlement."

Greg nodded in agreement.

"So I freaked about nothing."

"It happens."

Greg smiled.

"Guess I'll get to work on whatever it is you've come up with."

"Actually, let Amy run the DNA. Why don't you help Nick and Sara with the fingerprints."

"But Ecklie…"

"Isn't here," Grissom cut in with a smile.

Greg smiled back again and turned to go.

"And Greg?"

"Yeah boss?"

"You do know your shirt is inside out, right?"

"Its how all the cool kids are wearing them."

Grissom laughed as Greg left realizing how much he missed the levity Greg brought to the graveyard shift. Intentional or not.


	19. Forward Progress

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Chapter 19: Forward Progress **

The letter itself was pretty cut and dry. It had the names, times and places of the three murders that had taken place in their homes. The Juarez, Jacobsen and Sanchez cases. There were specific details left about each, but no reason given for why. It was also pretty much unusable.

"Did the entire news room pick this thing up?" Nick asked in disgust. There were so many prints on the paper that there was no telling whose was whose.

"Probably," Sara answered.

"Well, do you want some good news?" Amy asked brightly from the doorway.

Greg, Sara and Nick who'd been processing the letter all looked up at her as one.

"Please?" Greg finally asked after a pause.

"So," Amy started, "you know there was nothing yet from the crime scene, so I started on the envelope. The stamp was useless. Self stick, only kind you can find nowadays."

"I hope this is going somewhere," Nick interrupted, not agitated just amused.

He was treading lightly around Amy lately, and she around him. He'd tried to maintain the easy going air he'd always had when talking with her, but it no longer sounded as natural as it once had.

"It is," she said still smiling. "I got it off the paper and there was a partial print underneath."

"Well, that's a start," Sara said, nodding her head.

"Oh, but its better," Amy continued and then stopped again.

"Was I this bad?" Greg asked, turning to Nick and Sara.

"Worse," they said in unison.

"The envelope. Our guy licked it. Got a clean sample and its running right now."

"Great," Nick said, "it's about time we got something."

"I hope he's got a record," was Sara's response. Having a sample was great news, but not if they didn't have anyone to match it too.

* * *

The rest of the night passed quickly. Greg stayed about half-way through his normal shift before finally calling it quits. Dragging himself home just after noon he didn't even make it into the bedroom; just collapsed on the couch to sleep.

Sara, amused to find him rumbled and snoring when she got up around two, decided not to wake him. Instead she quietly made her way through the apartment, stopping first in the kitchen for a snack. The smell of food woke him anyway.

"Hey," he said, still groggy but hungry. Whatever she'd made, tofu-surprise no doubt, smelled good.

Sara looked over at him and laughed.

"What?"

"I wondered how you got your hair like that," she said still giggling. Greg's hair was never normal, but after sleeping on the couch it was positively unseemly.

Greg took a few minutes and ran his hands through it, trying to get it lay flat without much luck.

"You know, it really just grows this way," he said as he made his way to the coffee pot. "I just stopped fighting it and called it a look."

"I suppose it grows in three different colors too," she said, still laughing.

"Not lately," he answered, now smiling himself. His hair having just finished growing out completely and was for the first time in nearly ten years its natural color, brown.

"Is that all you're having?" she asked, indicating the mug he was now holding in anticipation of the coffee which he'd begun.

"No, I'm going to eat too. I just need to be awake first."

"How was work?" she asked, starting on her own late lunch.

"Slow," he said through a yawn, "all the good crimes happen at night."

"Remind me to switch to days then."

"You'd never last," he returned, sitting down now with his drink and snagging a piece of bell pepper out of the pasta she'd made.

"Get your own," she snapped playfully, "It's on the stove."

"I'm lazy and tired. I'd only been asleep about an hour last night when you called."

"Then at least use a fork," she said, pushing the plate towards him.

He turned round and took one from the drawer behind him before continuing to pick at her plate.

"I've got to get in the shower," Greg said distractedly checking the clock.

"Session at five?" she asked. They'd gotten better about talking about it, but not completely so.

"Yeah, I'm going to bring up the drug treatment again."

"You know if you really don't agree with him," Sara interjected "you can always go to someone new. Get a second opinion."

"I've thought about it, but then I'd just have to start over again. I've just kind of gotten into the routine of it again, it's not easy. Plus, whoever it was would want to see for themselves, I could be on the stuff for the rest of my life just bouncing between doctors waiting for a second opinion."

"May be worth a try. Dr. Tracey didn't think you needed them."

"And?" he prodded, knowing what she was getting at.

"And," she continued, "You're probably not going to get reinstated while you're on them."

Greg nodded. He knew it was true.

"I'll see what Dr. Fenton says tonight," Greg finished, taking one last bite off of her plate before standing to go.

Sara watched him leave hoping he'd have better luck.

* * *

After his appointment Greg checked his messages. He always turned off his cell during them, it was a distraction, and saw that he had two new ones. Playing them back, one Sara the other Griss, he headed straight to the lab.

When he got there he found that they'd waited on him. Grissom wanted them to meet in the AV room, just his core team, and in his eyes that still included Greg.

"Okay," he said upon Greg's arrival. "Shut the door and we'll talk."

Greg did as he was asked before leaning against the back counter.

"Amy's print and sample came up blank," he said without sounding disappointed. "But, the paper from the letter matches the pamphlets from the clinic and the fibers found at two of the murders. Catherine?"

"Dr. Spencer," she continued, "was killed in the same fashion as Dr. Sanchez."

She was now showing the photos, ones Greg hadn't seen yet but knew what to expect.

"She was left in virtually the same position on the bed and her throat was slit post-mortem. Al figures she'd been dead at least two days before she was found."

She put up a new picture.

"This was written above her bed in the victim's blood."

It was a single word, dried almost so much that it looked like paint. 'UNCLEAN'.

"We've interviewed her neighbors and friends and came up with nothing. Alicia Spencer led a relatively quiet lifestyle. By all indications her work was her life. She spent countless hours at her clinic."

"Let's go over what we know," Grissom said. "We know that all of the victims, except Angie and Evan Jacobsen, were somehow connected to the clinic. What else do they have in common?"

"Dr. Sanchez and Dr. Spencer were close," Greg said. "When we talked to her on the day of the bomb threat she was still pretty distraught."

"I think they were more then close," Nick put in.

They all just looked at him for an explanation.

"Here," he said getting up and joining Catherine at the overhead. He flipped through the case photos till he found what he was looking for and then put them on screen.

It was a picture of her fireplace. On her mantle, Dr. Spencer had three framed photographs. Each was of her and Laura Sanchez. One was broken.

"I'm not passing judgment," Nick continued, "but I don't keep photos of just my friends on display."

"So what," Sara asked, "do you think they were lovers?"

Despite asking Nick, everyone now turned to Greg for a response.

"Why is everyone looking at me?" Greg asked in return. "It's not like she'd have told me that. I was just her patient."

"Were there any photos of Dr. Spencer in Dr. Sanchez's house?" Grissom asked.

"We weren't looking for that," Catherine supplied, "But we should have the photos here."

Nick was already shuffling through the file.

"Nothing," he said.

"Unrequited?" Warrick asked, "Maybe Dr. Spencer had a thing for her and it never panned out."

"Or," Catherine continued "Dr. Sanchez was less then open about her lifestyle."

"Okay," Grissom continued, "it's interesting but is it evidence?"

Catherine and Warrick agreed to look into it some more. It may or may not have anything to do with their deaths, but it was new information to go on.

"One thing I don't understand," Sara began, "Why did he stray from his norm and kill Evan Jacobsen? Presumably, he could have killed Angie Jacobsen in the other room without him even waking up. The crime scene photos show no signs of a struggle and strangulation is a relatively quiet murder. And then, why drown him? It seems like a lot of effort when he could have just strangled him as well."

"Good questions," Grissom responded. "Care to find out?"

Sara nodded agreeing to take it on and the meeting ended.

"You heading home?" Sara asked Greg, keeping him back a minute as everyone else got to work.

"Yeah, my head is pounding," he admitted.

"Any luck?"

"With Dr. Fenton, no. Still wants me on the meds."

She shook her head and looked down.

"You coming home soon?" he asked, it was her night off but he had a feeling she'd be here for awhile regardless.

"Soon," she answered. "I'm going to look into Evan Jacobsen first. See if anything was missed. I won't stay long."

"I'll probably be asleep," he said with a stupid smile.

"I'll have to risk it," she replied before kissing him quickly and heading out the door.

Greg smiled and followed her out and said a quick goodbye to everyone else. They'd be staying too, starting their shifts early. He felt a little bad leaving especially with so much to do, but as his head really was killing him. Almost to the point where turning it hurt. It had come on rather suddenly and it was the second time in under a week, but Greg wrote it off as exhaustion. He was back to working a full work schedule again and he wasn't exactly use to it yet.

By the time he got home and in bed it was just before ten. Greg heard Sara come in around midnight, but didn't stir. She crept silently around the room and then climbed in beside him, hugging his back. His only response was to silently kiss her hand and pull her closer before falling back into a dreamless sleep.

And then his cell phone rang.

It had felt like mere seconds after Sara had come home, but it was in fact a few hours later.

"What?" he asked into it, forgoing his usual greeting and checking the clock. Two in the morning, again.

Sara stirred beside him, lifted up her head and started at his expression. Greg looked like he might be sick.

"No, we're coming." was all he'd said before hanging up.

"What is it?" she asked, worried now at his expression.

"It's Amy."


	20. Hope

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Notes:** Come on now, I wouldn't kill her! I like Amy to much to kill her; of course I liked Dr. Sanchez too. Seriously – sorry for the abrupt ending to the last chapter. I'd meant to post this one sooner but remembered by chapter naming faux pas and decided to revise the whole darn thing. I've made some wording changes to most of the chapters and posted them now, but nothing has changed content wise. I think it reads better now as a whole.

Oh, and this chapter easily the hardest to write so far. It got started four different ways before I decided on this, and then it still had about six different endings. I think it's ready now. It better be.

**Chapter 20: Hope**

Amy sat on the other side of the table from Brass biting her nails. She didn't normally, but couldn't stop right now. She had to do something with her hands or else they might never stop shaking.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" he asked.

It was the third time she'd been asked in under an hour. She was growing impatient with that question. Amy wanted to yell at him that she really just wanted to go home, but fought down that urge.

Instead she just said she was fine and left it at that.

She didn't look fine. She looked pretty beaten up. Her knee was throbbing and had bled through the denim. She had a pretty nasty looking gash across her forehead and a cut on her lower lip, neither required stitches. He could only imagine what her arms must look like, but couldn't tell because of the jacket she had clutched around her despite the relatively warm room. It was Stokes jacket. Brass could read the name tape clearly. Stokes who he knew was watching from the other side of the two-way mirror fuming. Not that Brass blamed him. He was pretty angry himself. But that wasn't what really concerned him. It was her neck.

Amy had tried hiding it from him, but it wasn't easy to do. Parts were already yellow and tinged green, but the majority of it was blue. Deep blue. She'd been unconscious but breathing when Bobby Dawson had run across her in the parking lot. By the time he'd gotten 911 on the line, she'd woken up. The EMTs had treated her back inside, where he'd taken her at Amy's insistence. They'd okayed her, but just barely. They'd really wanted her to ride to the hospital with them so they could check her out fully, but she really hadn't wanted to go. Brass didn't think it to look at her, but she was tough.

"Could you describe the attack?"

"Okay," she said softly, "I'd parked my car; I was late, almost one, so I had to park in the back lot. The garage was full already."

She stopped for a moment trying to set the details straight in her head.

"So, I um," she began again, tapping her fingers on the table top, "I locked it up and had my keys still out, walking towards the back entrance. I was putting them into my purse when I heard someone coming up from behind me."

Brass was writing down the details as she talked.

"It sounded like they were running."

"Was it jogging shoes or dress?"

It was the first time Grissom had spoken since they'd begun. He'd stayed out of the way until now, let Brass handle this, but it was important they got as much detail out of her now while it was still fresh.

"Dress, I think," she said after thinking it over. "It wasn't quiet, I could hear him coming. It had to have been dress because that's what most everyone wears to work and I remember thinking that someone must be later then me. That they were running because they were late, not…"

She'd trailed off and looked down at her hands again. They were clenched.

"So they ran up behind you," Brass started again for her.

"Yes," she nodded. "They knocked me into a car, like sideswiped me. I don't know whose car it was. It was blue, midnight blue, maybe a Toyota. I think I yelled, I'm not sure."

"Did he say anything to you?"

"No, he didn't. I'd fallen at that point and he grabbed me by my hair. He pulled me to my feet, still behind me. I never got a look at his face."

Amy had tears in her eyes now, was blinking rapidly trying to keep them from falling.

"I thought he wanted my purse, so I dropped it. I think I told him to take it, to just take it, but he didn't let go of me."

"Do you remember a smell, any details about the man at all?" Grissom asked.

"I don't. No, there was nothing. I'm not very good at this," she said with a false smile, no longer able to stop the tears from coming.

Brass offered her some tissues, which she took and wiped her eyes.

"Wait," she said suddenly, her voice stronger then before, "he was wearing gloves."

"You're certain?" Grissom asked again.

"Positive. I felt them. When he grabbed my hair, I reached up and tried to pull him off of me. I kicked him as best I could in the shins, but he wouldn't let go."

"Good," Brass said to her before continuing on.

As Brass had guessed, just on the other side of mirror Nick Stokes was watching and listening in. And he was fuming.

"How is she?" Greg asked quietly, Sara and him having just arrived. They'd already talked with Warrick and Catherine; they'd filled them in on most of the details and were now processing the scene of the attack.

"Okay," Nick said tightly, not looking back to either of them. Still listening intently at the conversation before him.

Amy was now saying to Brass and Grissom that she didn't remember the rest. That after being pulled up by her hair the next thing she recalled was Bobby kneeling next to her, talking to someone on his phone.

The three of them were now shoulder to shoulder at the mirror. Unblinking and unbelieving.

"She wasn't attacked, was she?"

By the tone of Sara's question, her inflection, they knew what she was getting at. Exactly what she'd been getting at.

They'd both turned at looked at her, horrified.

"No," Nick said firmly but it sounded to her ears as if he hadn't wanted to even consider it.

Greg subconsciously nodded his head in agreement with Nick. As if it wasn't even possible.

Sara thought they were both being a bit too optimistic. Too hopeful. Despite doing the jobs they did and knowing exactly what people were capable of, they'd refused the notion outright because Amy was involved. Of course, she wasn't exactly one to talk. She hadn't even been able to say it herself. Not out loud.

"How did you find out?" Greg asked Nick.

They'd gone back to watching the mirror.

Nick had been the one to call them, although he hadn't given them any details at the time. Just that Amy had been hurt and they needed to come in.

"Bobby was brining her inside. Found her unconscious in the parking lot. I was the first person they'd ran across inside."

Nick stopped talking abruptly, too angry to continue. Sara and Greg remained quiet, knowing that he just needed another minute or two to regain himself.

"Fucking security guards," he started again, bringing his fist down on the ledge as he'd said it "whole things on tape. Cameras caught it, but no one was watching when it happened."

He didn't get any further before Warrick joined them in the room. Sara and Greg turned towards him, but Nick just kept watching the exchange taking place on the other side of the mirror.

"What'd you get?" Sara asked, always straightforward.

"Not much. Got some blood on the ground and a nearby car where Bobby pointed out he'd found her. Probably Amy's. Her purse is missing, so it looks like it was just a mugging."

"That's bullshit," Nick mumbled under his breath.

"We did recover her keys," Warrick continued as if it hadn't been said, handing the keys over to Greg. He knew Nick wasn't angry with him, just the situation.

"But what happened?" Greg asked, starting to feel angry himself. Angry and helpless.

"Tapes show it all, it isn't pretty. The guy knocked her down, grabbed her from behind and…" Warrick stopped momentarily, clearly having a hard time with this as well. It wasn't everyday they knew the victim. "And shoved her face first into a car. She was out cold. He got her to the ground and then we can't really tell what happened next. It's out of the camera shot."

"We know what happened," Nick interrupted. "He almost killed her. You can look at her neck and see what happened next."

Sara and Greg each turned briefly back to the mirror. From the angle they were at they couldn't see it. Couldn't see the bruising so they hadn't known.

"After a minute or two we see the guy standing up, holding her purse and taking off in the opposite direction. Then Bobby's in the shot. The guy must have heard him coming and it scared him off."

"Did Bobby see him?" Sara asked hopefully.

"No," Warrick said with a shake of his head.

They could tell the interview was wrapping up. Amy was signing a statement now and looking anxiously around the room. Grissom and Brass had stood up and she followed suit although she clearly didn't know where she was going too next.

Warrick excused himself, knowing this wasn't his place and left to find Catherine. Greg, Sara and Nick went out into the hall to wait for them.

A few more seconds brought them out.

Brass and Grissom left together after thanking Amy again for her help, offering any assistance she might need and leaving her to the others care.

For a moment it was awkward and silent.

Finally Greg spoke.

"Amy there's easier ways going about getting a few days off."

Sara almost hit him. Would have hit him if Amy hadn't laughed.

"That's not funny," Sara said dead serious and staring at him in shock. Nick didn't look too happy with him either. But they both soon saw the look on Greg's face, the one that clearly said making a joke was his only option here. It was either that or he might cry.

But Amy had laughed and hugged him. Laughter of relief. If Greg was still making jokes she couldn't look that bad. It couldn't be that bad. It was reassuring. For the first time all night she didn't feel like such a victim. Like such a statistic.

"I need to get out of here," she said now, letting out a held breath and looking up and down the halls. Aware that everyone was looking her over and really getting a feel for how Greg must have felt this entire year. "Can someone take me home?"

"I can," Nick volunteered immediately.

Sara and Greg didn't object. Nick wouldn't be happy until he saw her safe, and he wouldn't think she was safe unless he was there making sure of it himself. They'd walked with them out to the garage not really talking but keeping each other company none the less.

Amy thanked them quietly for coming, the awkwardness resurfacing momentarily. She hugged them both goodbye and they promised to check on her in the morning and made her promise to call if she needed anything, no matter what the time. She'd agreed too, but knew she wouldn't be taking them up on it. She just wanted to put it all behind her. Forget it if she could.

Amy sat back in Nick's jeep, staring out the passengers' window and hoped that was possible.


	21. It Will Do

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Notes:** Honest to goodness, I think this is my first entirely Greg free chapter!

**Chapter 21: It Will Do **

The ride to her place had been nearly silent. It would have been completely silent if Nick hadn't needed to ask her directions. He'd never been to her place before.

She lived in one of the nicer condominium complexes in the area, not too far from work and just far enough away from the strip. Not sure if she wanted him to accompany her up, he erred on the side of caution and walked her to the lobby.

"I'm on the seventh," she said to him as she pressed the elevator call button and he took that as an invitation.

Amy was otherwise quiet.

They got out of the elevator together and he'd followed her down the hall to her place. 708. Greg had returned her keys before they'd left the garage, and now she fumbled with them momentarily trying to unlock the door. The problem was her hand wouldn't stay still long enough to get the key into the slot.

Without being asked and before she could become too embarrassed by the situation, Nick just stepped up, put his hand over hers, and helped her.

"Thanks," she said, smiling up at him briefly, as it came undone before them.

Her place was nice. Very nice. It had a sunken living room complete with a view of the strip and a fireplace, a large kitchen and dining area and at least two bedrooms that he could see.

"Wow," Nick said taking it in, "I didn't think you made this much more then me. Kind of makes me wonder why Greg quit working in the lab."

Amy laughed. A real genuine laugh.

"No," she corrected, "I don't pay for this. I couldn't pay for this."

"You got a sugar daddy I don't know about?" he asked, smiling at her for the first time all night.

"Hardly, just a regular one. And a mom. They bought it for me. Kind of a late graduation gift."

"You got this for graduating from college?"

"No need to remind me that I'm spoiled."

"No," he said, trying to back peddle, "I didn't mean it like that. It's just, most people get cars or something. Heck, all I got was a pat on the back and a congratulations."

"Well, my parents weren't very excited when I said I was moving here for this job. They knew what I'd be making and didn't think it was enough to afford a nice enough place on my own."

Nick nodded understandingly. If he had a daughter going off alone to a city like this, he'd do everything he could to make her safe too. Of course, a lot of good it had done. Amy had been attacked just outside of work. No where was completely safe.

"So," she asked, "do you want a drink?"

"Sure, let me help."

"No," she said, motioning him off to the living room "have a seat, really. I've got it. Soda, beer or wine?"

"Beer is good," he said not sitting down, but looking around a bit. He briefly scanned her bookcase, recognized most of the titles because Greg's were nearly identical. It wasn't surprising seeing as they were both chemist.

She'd come back and caught him holding a picture frame in his hands, examining the picture inside.

"My family," she said to his back.

"Sorry," he said hastily putting it back, "habit."

"I bet," was all she said as she handed him his drink. She'd opted for wine.

"I'd of thought you were an only child," he said as he took a seat on the couch.

"Nope, I'm the Jan," she said, settling uneasily into the nearby chair. "Two sisters, one older and one younger. Jennifer and Karen. What about you?"

"I'm the baby of the family."

"That I can believe," she said with a laugh. "Out of how many?"

"Seven including me."

"What?" she asked in disbelief. "You're mom had seven kids? That's amazing. I'm not sure how I'm ever going to even have one. My mom's an OB and let's just say I've seen things."

Nick laughed then noticed how Amy's hands were shaking a bit still; it was only obvious because of the wine glass she was holding out before her. As if she needed something to do with her hands. She was talking and laughing, but she still wasn't alright. Not yet.

Aware that he was watching her hands, she set the glass down and stood up abruptly.

"Do you mind if I go and clean up?" she asked, already starting to head towards the back. "Just help yourself to whatever and I'll be out in like ten minutes."

She didn't wait for an answer, just turned and left. Amy needed to be alone for a second. To collect her thoughts. Hurrying into her bedroom, she was nearly to the bathroom when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. It was startling, frightening even because at first, she hadn't know it was her.

Amy hadn't really seen it until now. The whole time, even with that giant mirror in the interrogation room, she hadn't looked. She knew how sore she felt, could feel the swelling, but she hadn't seen it. But there it was, staring back at her now.

Slowly she took of the jacket, Nick's jacket that had been way too big for her. The one she'd worn all night. She could picture the look on his face still, the one she'd seen when Bobby had helped her inside and they'd ran straight into him. The first thing he'd done was to take off his jacket and wrap it around her protectively, and then he'd put and arm around her waist and sent Bobby off for help. It had been just them for a few moments and she'd felt safe again.

Amy kept undressing right there in front of the mirror. She had to see it. Had to see what had happened to her. The cuts on her face weren't bad. She felt a small knot form just above her forehead, where he must have knocked her unconscious, but mainly that was it. Her neck was the worse part. Her neck was completely bruised, black and blue. She'd always thought that was just an expression until now. But Amy's neck really was black and blue, a little yellow even.

Unable to stop now, she undid her shirt, button my button. Her left fore arm had visible finger marks around it and she remembered why. When he'd held her up by the hair, he'd also taken hold of her arm. Right there. It looked tattooed onto her skin and the thought made her shudder. Like she'd never shake him off of her.

Her right side was worse. Under her arm is where she'd hit the car. Where he'd rammed her into the side of the car causing her to fall for the first time and scrap her knee in the process. It was nearly as black and blue as her neck, but not quite. It didn't hurt, not really, it was only tender. Amy ran her fingers over it; the bruise was easily twice as big as her hand. It didn't seem real.

How'd she let this happen? How could she have been so stupid?

Amy's mind was filled with all of the things she should have done. If she'd only carried her keys in her hands, instead of putting them back into her purse. If only she'd scratched his face, at least gotten a piece of him as evidence, they might know who it was right now. If only she'd left for work on time. It was all racing back to her, a hundred or more mistakes she'd made.

There was a soft knock at the door that brought her back to reality.

"Amy," she heard Nick ask softly from the other side, "Are you okay?"

She pulled a shirt out of her dresser and quickly pulled it on. Looking back into the mirror she'd only then realized she'd been crying.

"Just, give me a second," she answered, dashing into the bathroom and drying her face on a towel.

"I thought I heard you, um, in here, and I wanted to make sure you were alright."

His voice had been closer this time. Coming out of the bathroom, Amy knew why. He'd just about met her at the door connecting her bedroom and bath.

"Sorry," he said upon seeing her surprise.

"No, don't be. But I'm fine."

She hadn't looked at him once while saying it. Couldn't. She knew she was close to tears again and she didn't want him always seeing her cry. It was bad enough the first few times, now it was just getting ridiculous.

"Amy," he said, his voice imploring her to look up.

Nick gently took hold of her right hand. He rested his other hand on her opposite shoulder before slowly moving it up till his fingertips just rested on the nape of her neck.

If it had been anyone else, she'd have flinched. Maybe even pushed them away. Amy hadn't even let the EMTs touch her neck after what had happened, but Nick she trusted. He wasn't going to hurt her.

They were closer now, much closer. Her hand was no longer resting in his, but on his back. There wasn't any space left between them. Nick was slowly running his thumb along her jaw, gently pressing her to look him in the eyes. Reluctantly she did, a few tears escaping her.

He wanted to kiss her.

He wanted to, but didn't. Nick thought it would be too much like taking advantage. She was hurt and upset and he didn't want to add to that. Instead he just pulled her completely into him and held her as the storm of tears had begun to fall.

Amy had cried until she just couldn't any more. It all came out, how scared she'd been, how angry, how extremely weak she felt. How terrified, how extremely terrified she still was.

Nick did everything he could for her, but mostly all she needed was somebody there. Someone who would hold her and tell her it was going to be alright. Someone to make it alright again. He found he could do that rather easily.

Neither of them was certain when they'd fallen asleep, but as the morning sun crept into the room, it was evident that they had.

Nick woke up first. Nothing had happened between them, nothing physical, but it had still been a bit of an eye opener when he'd realized it was Amy whose head was resting on his chest, curled up next to him. When he'd remembered that he'd stayed the night. Not wanting to wake her, he brushed a few stray hairs out of her face, tucking them back behind her ear like he had one night in the break room, a night that seemed like ages ago.

"Morning," he said as he saw her eyelids flutter.

An amused smile lit his face as he saw the confusion on hers as she looked at him, a moment before she realized that nothing had happened either.

"I drooled on you," she said before she could stop herself.

Nick just laughed, even as she turned red from embarrassment, pulling herself up off of him and trying to come awake.

"That's okay," he assured her, "I slept with my shoes on your bed so we're even."

"I thought that's how Texans did it," she blurted out again as she'd gotten out of bed, if possible turning redder then before as she'd finally thought through all the connotations that statement held.

Nick laughed even harder.

"I, oh man," Amy stammered from the doorway of the bathroom, "in the morning, before coffee, my mouth just says these things. I'm sorry. Please ignore me."

"I should probably go make some coffee then," he said, getting up off the bed.

"Yes, before I speak again. I'm just going to jump in the shower."

Nick nodded and made his way into the main part of her place. He grabbed their half empty glasses out of the living room and headed into the kitchen. After starting up the coffee he decided on breakfast.

"Wow," she said coming into the kitchen her hair still wet but looking much more refreshed, "if I knew you could cook I would had let you stay over here sooner."

"Here's your coffee," he said with a smirk, choosing not to comment on her last statement as he handed her the mug.

She smiled at him and took a sip.

"Thanks for staying," she started, "I know you didn't have too. And I really do appreciate it. It really meant a lot to me."

Nick didn't turn towards her. Thought that if he did he might do something rash, might say something rash. So instead he continued cooking breakfast.

"Amy don't thank me. You're my friend. I'd do anything for you."

Amy nodded and said nothing more. She understood. It wasn't what she wanted to hear, but it would do. For now it would do.


	22. Warning

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Notes: **Oh my goodness, this chapter has so kicked my ass. It was painful, literally painful to write. I joked that chapter 20 started eighteen different ways, but I still have three drafts of this one to prove it. Ugh! But finally it is done. Sorry, this is the ONLY chapter for tonight. Tomorrow I should fare better.

Thanks to all the reviewers:

GottaGetGreg – hope you're not disappointed that I only got this one chapter out today! I don't know if it's inspiration or obsession. I'll let the viewers decide.

Miss-Andromache – thank you, I'm flattered. I've actually only seen the end of the strip strangler case. I'm not sure mine is going to be as good. As if you haven't guessed, I'm obviously putting Nick with Amy. : ) And yes, that's my favorite line too!

A Bloom – Your name keeps changing, so I hope you don't mind if I still go by this! Rest assured, I'd never kill Amy!

BeyondMyStar – Again, no way I'm killing off Amy. She's my only solid original character. Ever. Okay, not ever. I've got a fairly vicious creation lurking in my Buffy fics, but that's it.

white rose01 – I didn't know Amy was this popular. And again, I'm well below my quota for the night. Only one chapter. What's wrong with me?

fading-lights – Glad your enjoying the story and the characterization I've come up with. I'm never certain how close I am, but typically it's my interpretation of how I see them. That makes no sense, forgive me it's late.

Em – Glad you got to finally read all of 'Happy Enough' I had a great time writing it. Obviously, because this is just a continuation of it really! I'll give you that he's suspicious, but no more. : ) Hopefully it wont be too long of a wait for anyone to find out.

**Chapter 22: Warning**

That night Nick stood in the AV room looking at the pictures.

He'd seen the real thing up close not hours ago, but somehow seeing it projected, actually a part of an investigation, made it that much worse.

"Don't do this to yourself," he heard a voice say from behind him. Nick didn't have to turn around to know that it was Warrick.

"I'm just trying to help catch this asshole."

"No," Warrick countered, now standing at his side, "you're trying to get yourself fired. Grissom told you to stay away from this. Just like the rest of us. Swing shift's got it."

Nick shook his head. Not so much at Warrick's statement, he knew that they weren't covering the case, but at the pictures themselves.

Catherine had taken them last night. Had documented all of Amy's bruises for the record. It was shocking; not only could you see the bastard's fingertips on her forearm; you could almost make out the entire hand wrapped round her neck.

"This just isn't right," Nick muttered.

"Of course it isn't. Things like this shouldn't happen at all."

"Well that," Nick agreed, "but I meant the hand. He could have killed her. Easily. His hand is bigger then her neck. You've seen the tapes, he had the time."

Warrick was now really giving the photo his attention. He saw what Nick was getting at. It was as if the guy hadn't wanted to kill her, just prove he could. Like he was mocking them.

"You can strangle a person on accident," Nick continued after a moment, "this guy had to have known he wasn't going to kill her. He knew what he was doing."

Warrick nodded in agreement.

"Don't ask me to make sense of it," he finally said, "I mean, he took her purse and left her keys. What sense does that make? He may have just been a crack head for all we know now."

"Crack heads don't wear gloves."

"True," Warrick contended.

"Wait," Nick stopped, "what do you mean he left her keys?"

"You read her statement right? Heard her yourself, she put them in her purse. Our guy took her purse, but her keys were there. Right where Bobby found her."

Nick finally stopped staring at the photo and turned his full attention to Warrick. Something was defiantly wrong.

"I think we need to talk to Griss."

* * *

Greg and Sara had meant to stay that night with Amy at her place, but it hadn't panned out. Greg, whose headache from the other day had never really subsided, was now officially sick. He'd claimed it was just a little bit of the flu but no one was buying it. Sara, unable to get him to go to the doctor or even call in sick, wasn't happy. He'd come home from work completely worn out that day and instead of them heading to Amy's house, Sara had gone and brought her to them.

Amy had been reluctant to come at all.

She felt at times, especially around just Greg and Sara, that she was a bit of a third wheel. However, still shaken from the attack, she'd agreed. Third wheel or not, she hadn't wanted to be alone yet. Nick had spent the entire day with her on Saturday and had even stopped by Greg and Sara's place to check on her before he'd gone to work.

Work for her, was at this point, out of the question. At least it was according to Grissom. He'd put her on paid leave until at least Monday night, longer if she wanted it. She wasn't sure yet.

Amy had slept that night on their couch.

As she'd drifted off she briefly wondered if this was how she was going to spend the rest of her life, being watched over by others or sleeping just outside their doors. Was she ever going to feel safe being alone again? She didn't know.

At just after three she heard a phone ring.

Greg or Sara, maybe both of them were awake now, talking quietly in the next room. They'd talked for at least twenty minutes, occasionally one of their voices carrying into the living room but no distinct words could be made out. Soon enough Sara came out of the bedroom and left. Amy sat up as she'd gone; wondering if there was some type of emergency, almost hoping she'd get called herself. It would feel good to not feel so useless.

"Aren't you sleeping?" she heard Greg ask. She hadn't seen him in the doorway.

"I heard the phone," she said. "Feel better?"

"A little," he said dully, sitting down in the nearest chair. "How about you?"

The light from the street was just bright enough for her to make out his silhouette. He'd looked bad that night, shaky even. Now she couldn't tell.

"Me, I'm great."

"Wow, I thought I was a bad liar."

Amy laughed. It had been a horrible attempt.

"I've been better," she admitted.

"Nightmares?" he asked, really concerned for her.

"Not bad. Not yet anyway."

Greg nodded his head in understanding.

"Was Sara called in about the Sanchez case?" she asked, trying to shift the attention away from herself. "Did they find anything new?"

"Why?" he asked his voice taking on an odd tone.

"No reason. It's her night off, it's a big case. I thought that would be the only reason they'd ask her to go in, if it was that important."

"Oh, yeah. That. They just wanted her in to go over something. I don't know what. She didn't really tell me."

Amy gave a nervous laugh.

"Wow," she said "you really are a bad liar."

Greg just looked down at his hands, saying nothing in return.

"Greg," she said, her voice starting to fill with worry, "What is it? Was it about…"

She didn't have to finish. He'd looked up at her and she thought she knew. Despite the lighting being so dim, she could see the worry in his eyes.

"They're not sure, not yet."

"Not sure of what?"

"They think," Greg started but couldn't finish. It was enough to think about, still so fresh in his head. Saying it, how was he supposed to say it?

"What do they think?" Amy asked, fearing the absolute worse. She'd been unconscious, but for how long? What had happened to her and why wouldn't anyone say?

"Grissom thinks," Greg started again, "that what happened to you was a warning."

"I don't understand."

"From whoever killed Dr. Sanchez. He thinks he was the one that attacked you."

"But, that doesn't make sense," Amy said, feeling the panic in her voice rise, "I'm not connected, I don't know… It's not how he's done it before. I'm still…"

"Amy," Greg said, getting up and sitting beside her now, "please, it's going to be okay."

"How? How does he get from mugging to attempted murder? He took my purse is all. That's all."

"He left your keys."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Greg shook his head. He'd had the same argument with Sara not fifteen minutes ago. But she'd made him see reason; he'd have to do the same for Amy.

"Amy, they were in your purse. You said it yourself. You put them there; he took them out and left them beside you. Where they'd be found so you could go home."

"Maybe he was just looking through it? There was a time lapse, right? From when I was unconscious."

Greg gave her a moment. He needed it himself. His headache was coming back to him again, making him nauseous.

"There's more isn't there?" she finally asked.

Greg just nodded, not sure he could do this. It scared him to think about it, he couldn't imagine how terrified Amy was going to be.

"What? Just tell me."

"Bobby found you laid out on the ground."

"I don't understand."

Greg stopped and licked his lips. His throat felt raw and he really didn't want to continue, but felt he owed it to her.

"Posed Amy. Like the others."

Greg saw it sinking in. Saw it fill her eyes. The realization dawning, like it had with him when Sara had finally relayed everything Nick and Warrick had found out that night. It was cold. It just felt cold.

* * *

Nick and Sara left work and arrived at roughly the same time as each other back to Greg's apartment.

It had been a long night.

Amy was in the shower and Greg was already dressed for work. He'd phoned in and told them he'd be late. He hadn't wanted to leave Amy alone. Not after last night.

Quickly he filled them both in. He'd told Amy everything. After they'd talked neither of them had gotten any sleep. Greg looked the worse for it, but only because Amy was still so bruised it was hard to tell.

Before Greg left Amy had come back into the living room. She'd put on a brave front. Insisted she was fine. That she could handle it. She thanked Greg and Sara for letting her stay but wanted, if he could, for Nick to drive her home.

They'd all protested it, but she was determined.

This time the drive to her place was completely silent. Nick knew his way now and had no other reason to speak. Amy was grateful for it. She needed the quiet. Needed the time to pull herself together.

When they arrived, this time without wondering if an invitation was coming or not, Nick went up with Amy to her door.

She hadn't needed his help opening it. Her hands were steady now. Amy felt steady now, but she wasn't.

Once in side it really struck her.

"He wanted me here, didn't he?"

Nick touched her gently on the shoulder but she shrugged him off. Moved further into the room, back to him, arms crossed protectively in front of her.

"He wanted me here. To come home. That's how he does this. That's why he left my keys for me."

Nick didn't know what to say. It's what they'd all been thinking, discussing for more then half the night.

"Maybe he did this to them all. Warned them. Let them know it was coming."

"Amy, just come stay with me for today."

"No," she said, her voice was choked with tears, "I'm not going to be ran off. This is my home still."

"We don't know anything yet," he tried to reassure. "It's all guess work without any solid evidence Amy."

"Greg said that too," she said with a bit of a smile, turning to him finally.

"Nothing's going to happen to you," he said stepping closer, running his hands up and down her arms, "I'm promising you, I'm not going to let it."

Amy found she was laughing and crying all at once, leaning in to him as he wrapped his arms around her.

"What," he asked, "did Greg say that too?"

"No," she said pulling away a bit to look up at him, "but he said you would."


	23. Rationalize

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Chapter 23: Rationalize**

Monday came quickly.

Greg was feeling a little better now. Sara was still insisting he should at least phone Dr. Tracey, but he had continued to put it off. It was just the flu, it had to have been. Everyone on day shift had had it at least once and coming off of the chemo he was particularly prone to these things. He'd just been thankful it hadn't been worse and that it was finally going away.

Amy was doing better. Someone was with her pretty much around the clock now. Mostly it was Nick. He'd taken off all of Sunday to stay with her. The bruises were still vibrant against her natural fair skin, but looked to be fading. To bad they'd still come up empty on the case.

Well, almost empty.

Late in the day on Monday Sophia had tracked down their bomb maker. There had been no print visible initially, but after thoroughly cracking open and examining every square inch they'd hit pay dirt.

His name was Peter Nesbit and Greg had found it familiar. It hadn't taken either of them long to realize where they'd seen it, he was one of Dr. Sanchez's patients. Specifically he was the guy Catherine had found most suspicious, the one with Oedipus complex. He'd also been arrested before for assault.

They'd brought him in for initial questioning, booked him for making the bomb and the threat, but had nothing else. Greg had been hoping for some kind of break down in the interrogation room followed by a full confession, but that only happens on television. Peter Nesbit, if he was their murderer, had only said one word upon being taken in. 'Lawyer'.

Although not certain he was their guy, Greg had felt relieved. But even that relief was short lived.

Two hours after Mr. Nesbit had gone into lockup a courier from Channel Nine news arrived, there'd been another letter delivered to their station.

Sophia called in Grissom and had waited to open it until he'd arrived. This one was in no better condition then the previous. The entire news staff had had a good look at it before they had.

The letter itself was short. It only contained one line. 'A Present'. With it, wrapped inside and tied with a ribbon was a lock of hair. It was easy to see that there were two types of hair present. There had to be. Half of it was curly and red and the other half was dark brown and straight. He had a good guess as to whose the red hair was. Only one victim had been a redhead, Dr. Spencer.

Grissom gave the sample over to Greg and he immediately went to work on it.

Sorting hair, even hair that is obviously two different colors, wasn't easy. It took a lot of time. Once done, however, it still didn't look right to him. Greg had gotten it into two separate piles when he'd noticed why.

He was there that night until nearly eight, but finally done. The samples were sorted, DNA extracted and comparisons complete.

"Got a minute," he said, knocking once on Grissom's door. Grissom hadn't left since Sophia had called him earlier that day.

"Done?" he asked, somewhat surprised.

Greg had shut the door, nodding slowly still holding the report. Grissom waited for him.

"Finally," he said sinking into his now favorite chair.

"Both samples?"

"That's just it," Greg said, giving him an uneasy smile. "It wasn't just two samples, it was three. Three completely even separate types of hair."

"Define even."

"Even like exactly even, seventy-three strands of each. Each perfectly cut to two inches in length."

"Do we know whose they are?"

"Yes. All three."

Now Grissom knew something was wrong. Greg, even if he hadn't relished his role in the lab as of late, loved to give results. Loved finding the answers. This looked painful for him.

"First was easiest, it was red. Obvious choice our only redheaded victim, Dr. Spencer. It matched right up. Second wasn't as easy, just a lucky guess. It was dark brown and on a hunch I checked it against Dr. Sanchez and it matched."

"And the third?"

"The third was black. I tried it first against our only known victims with black hair who's DNA we had on file, Juanita Juarez and Jaime Taylor. No luck."

Greg stopped talking abruptly; he took in a deep breath and tried to ready himself to say this next part.

"Greg," Grissom said before he could continue, "you checked the third sample against Amy didn't you?"

Greg nodded.

"Just finished. We're all on file. I was hoping it wouldn't hit."

Grissom didn't need to hear anymore. Greg handed the report over to him.

"I'll get Brass on the line. Ask Nick to bring in Amy early, we can sit down and discuss what to do next." Grissom said, more for his benefit then Greg's. That's when he really saw it, the absolute fatigue on Greg's face.

"How are you doing?" he asked, as if suddenly concerned about nothing else.

"It must be bad if you're asking," Greg said before he could stop himself, "No offense."

"None taken," Grissom said with an amused smile.

"Sara's been on my case to go see Dr. Tracey. It's a cold, it's nothing. I just haven't been keeping anything down."

"Anything?" he asked, still concerned.

"Not nothing, I mean just not much." Greg suddenly felt scrutinized again. He hated that feeling.

"Go home," he ordered, "get some rest. We'll take care of things here."

Greg nodded and left as quickly as he could. He hated to lie. The truth was, despite feeling much better today, the last few days had been bad. The worst of it had been late Friday night and into Saturday morning. Then he really hadn't kept anything down, not even water. Today he'd had his first full meal since lunch on Friday, and it had only been soup and crackers.

The worst part of it all was he knew he should be listening to them. Greg really should go see Dr. Tracey, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. As terrifying as being so sick he'd actually vomited water, it was even more terrifying to consider a relapse. The part of his brain that he allowed to think for him way too much was already screaming at him to go anywhere but the hospital. That if he did he'd have to start over again. Completely over.

Making his way into the break room, he collapsed into the nearest chair.

He'd head home soon, but it was getting so late he thought he might as well just stick around for a little bit and see if he could catch Nick and Amy when they came in. Instead he caught Sara.

"Why are you still here?" she asked.

"Work. Needed doing." He could barely keep his eyes open.

"Greg, you should be home in bed."

"I know, I know. I was going but I just stopped here instead. For a minute."

Sara wasn't buying it.

"Anything good today?" she asked, sensing he wasn't going to let her push him out the door just yet. Thinking she might have to drag him anyway.

"Another letter from our guy showed up today."

"Get anything off of it?"

"Not off, in."

Before she could ask what that was supposed to mean Greg continued talking.

"And Sophia caught the bomber. The attempted bomber. The guy."

"Not the one we're after?"

"Don't know. Could be, but we don't know. He could have dropped the letter off first though, couldn't he?"

"I don't know what you mean," Sara said starting to get concerned.

Greg had his eyes shut and his head leaned all the way back, resting it against the back of the chair.

"Hey guys," Catherine said joining them, early for the night.

"Hi," Sara said to her but without looking away from Greg.

Catherine caught her concern immediately. Felt it herself.

"Greg," she said coming over and putting a hand on his forehead, "you're burning up."

"What?" he said suddenly, his eyes snapping open. He looked from one to the next, clearly confused. He'd actually fallen asleep talking to her; at least Sara hoped he'd fallen asleep.

"You've got a fever. Why are you still at work?" Catherine restated.

Greg ran his hands over his arms. He didn't feel warm at all, he felt cold. So cold he even had goose bumps.

"I'm taking you home," Sara said standing as she did so.

"I'm…"

"Greg," Sara cut him off, "no you're not. You're going home, right now."

"Okay," Greg said standing up too. For half a second he thought he might fall right back down. It had come and gone in a second, but Catherine and Sara had seen it. Catherine had even reached out and touched his elbow, steadied him.

He didn't fight it any more.

Sara drove him home with virtually nothing to say. She'd waited until they were back. Held it all in until they were completely alone.

"I'm scared."

"What?" Greg asked, not sure he'd heard her.

"Greg, I'm scared. You have to go see Dr. Tracey. This could be serious. And I know you don't want too. That you're scared too."

"Sara…"

"No," she said. She was going to have her say. "Listen, please. If it's back, we can handle it."

Greg turned away from her, momentarily frustrated.

"Sara, you're overreacting. It's the flu for crying out loud."

"You don't know that because you won't even go find out."

"I don't need to find out."

"You can't keep doing this to yourself."

"What?" he asked, starting to feel that familiar anger resurfacing. "What am I doing to myself?"

"This. Rationalize. You rationalize everything. Everyone can see your sick, everyone but you. For once could you just not be so hard headed and listen to what I'm saying."

"If I go," he said feeling defeated, "will you let up? Please. I'll call in the morning, but you can't keep doing this to me?"

"What am I doing to you?"

"Treating me like a child. I know my own limits."

"I don't think you do."

"What?"

"You almost passed out in the break room. You stayed way too late and you're working way too hard. You can't expect to just dive right back in, you're not ready. I hate to say it Greg, but it's true. It's going to take some time. Even when you were on the chemo you never really let up."

"I said I'd go," Greg said evenly cutting her off. Every bit of anger had gone from his voice. "Let's just drop it."

Sara nodded, not convinced she believed him. Not yet.

"I'm going to get some sleep now," he said, hating the tension between them but having no real way to combat it. He wasn't sure that if he did he'd even try.

"I'm calling in sick for you tomorrow."

Greg didn't try to stop her, hardly acknowledged what she'd said. In a way, she wished he would. It would be more like him.

"You'll be okay?" she asked, her voice softer as she was turning to go. Sara was on that night. Needed to get in. He hadn't been lying about that. There was work to be done. But still, she hated fighting with him. Leaving it like this.

"Yeah, fine," he answered, his voice still flat.

Sara said no more. They could work it out in the morning. They always had before. But as she closed the door on her way out of the apartment, she couldn't help but worry this time might be different.


	24. Drawing Blanks

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Chapter 24: Drawing Blanks**

Greg wasn't sure how to react. He'd woken up after ten the next morning, got through his shower, taken his daily dose of Elavil and gotten half way dressed before he'd even realized. Sara hadn't come home.

His first thought was to call her. See if she was alright. Confirm what he suspected, that she'd just gone to her own place for the day. Sara had done that before when they'd fought, but considering there was a madman on the loose seemingly targeting their place of work, he got worried.

Greg had heard her phone ring twice on his end before hanging up. He was being stupid. He was overreacting. She was home, at her home. Sara was fine. Likely all he'd do right now by calling her was make things worse.

He hadn't even set his phone back down when it rang.

"Hey," he said into it, knowing it was Sara. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Greg listened as she'd said he hadn't. That she was actually still at work going through case files related to Evan Jacobsen. She'd gotten on a roll and lost track of time.

"I'll let you go then," was all he said before saying goodbye and hanging up.

Mentally kicking himself, he knew he shouldn't have called. Greg, despite feeling rested and much better then the previous night, was still angry he'd only forgotten long enough because he he'd been momentarily panicked. He wasn't ready to make concessions yet, admit to her that she'd had several valid points. That could wait. It made him sick to fight with her, but even if she had been mostly right, he still felt she'd been way over the top about it.

He really considered not even calling Dr. Tracey, but knew he should. True, he felt better. Had been feeling better for the last few days, but by no means did he feel good. He still clung to the hope that it was the flu and was now hoping for some verification of it from his doctor. Something he could use to prove to Sara she'd been overreacting.

His next call was to her office. Dr. Tracey's receptionist was able to get him in late that day, which was fine. He had an appointment with Dr. Fenton that afternoon at five. He had them now every Tuesday and Friday at the same time. Greg had no luck convincing him yet that didn't need the drug treatment anymore and was seriously considering seeking out another opinion. He could ask Dr. Tracey for a recommendation today.

With nothing else to do, Greg grabbed a book of the shelf and read for an hour until Sara got home. She'd said hello on her way in and before she could ask he'd told her about his appointment. Sara smiled at him but said nothing more about it. She sensed he was trying to pick a fight with her, but she wasn't taking the bait. Greg, in a bad mood, was not an easy person to deal with; much like herself. It was one of those things she hadn't known about him before they'd become close. Part of it, she realized, was that he was normally so upbeat and even tempered that when he did get angry or upset it just seemed that much worse.

"Want to hear about the case?" she asked, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch, hoping to drawn him out of the funk he was obviously still in.

Despite himself, he was interested.

"What'd you get?" he asked, not really looking up from what he'd been doing.

"Two more cases," she said glad they'd found something to talk about civilly.

"We've all been through the files like ten times each. We couldn't have missed any."

"But they were missed because they weren't strangled and they weren't women."

"How do they fit?" Greg asked putting the book down and finally giving her his full attention.

"We'd all assumed the guy had just deviated from his norm and took advantage of the opportunity. Evan Jacobsen was drowned. Hands bound and his feet tied. No signs of a struggle. But it was too clean. This guy knows how to strangle and he knows how to drown. He's had practice."

"So you looked for other drowning victims."

"And found two that are suspicious. The first was a homeless man found in the local reservoir just over a year ago. It was ruled an accidental drowning but the man had marks on his wrists, like they'd been bound, but nothing was on him at the scene."

"Where was he found?"

"North Vegas."

Greg nodded and Sara continued on.

"The second was just about seven months ago, ruled an overdose. Apparently the victim had been having problems and had attempted suicide before. But the case has a number of suspicious circumstances like the fact that the drugs found in his system were all of the pharmaceutical variety, not consistent with anything actually found at the scene."

"But you think it's related?"

"Yeah, I do."

Then so did Greg. Sara had an almost sixth sense about these things.

They did okay the rest of the day. They'd fell into an uneasy truce, agreeing to disagree for the time being and just pretend for awhile. Sara took a nap not long after they'd talked about the two new files and Greg left her a note saying he'd be back after six before leaving for Dr. Tracey's and Dr. Fenton's offices respectively.

Dr. Tracey was glad he'd come.

They talked about his symptoms, about the worry that had really gotten him there, and to his delight she pretty much agreed with him. Likely, it was the flu. The chemotherapy had been in his system for over a year and had weakened it. Any disease he got for the next three to four months was going to be a lot harder to kick then before. However, to be safe she drew some blood. Just to be safe.

His initial delight was short lived when Dr. Tracey, after agreeing with him, proceeded to agree with Sara as well. She was almost livid that Greg, despite knowing he was sick, had gone into work for several days when he should have been home resting. It had been irresponsible and he was setting himself up for further complications.

All in all she thought he'd be fine. He looked a bit dehydrated but considering as sick as he'd been, it was to be expected. To her, Greg looked very much like he was coming off of a rather bad bout of the flu and nothing more. Only one thing didn't sit right with her, his eyes. When she'd checked for dilation, they hadn't reacted in the way she'd expected. It was almost delayed.

"Something wrong?" he asked, as she continuously shown the light in and out of his eyes.

"Have you fallen down lately?" she asked, very serious now. "Had any type of head injury?"

"No," Greg answered, "Well, none I can remember."

He'd smiled he'd said it, clearly meant it as a joke but Dr. Tracey didn't laugh. Normally she would, but this was confounding to her. She turned off the light in her hand and switched the brighter office lights back on, continuing to give him a very serious look. Very Grissom like.

"Greg," she began, "I have to ask you to be completely honest with me. Have you taken any type of drugs in the last twenty-four to forty-eight hours?"

"Just my Elavil. This and every morning."

She didn't say anything else, just continued to give him that look.

"You're not talking about prescription drugs are you?" he asked, caught somewhere between amused and upset.

The way he'd asked that had seemed to be enough to convince her, but it didn't explain his other reaction. Greg's pupils were definitely off and that could be a serious problem.

"I want you back next week for a cat scan," she said, going back over to her and writing it down on a card for him. "How is three o'clock on Monday?"

"Like I have a choice," he answered, taking the card.

"Get some rest," she said walking him to the door, "I'll be calling your office and letting them know that you won't be back until Friday."

"Fine, fine," he said shaking her offered hand, not angry so much as resigned.

"Oh," she asked before he'd gotten too far away, "how is it working with Dr. Fenton?"

"Okay," Greg answered truthfully, turning back towards her a bit. "I'm on my way there next. It's just he doesn't want to take me off of the meds yet and I can't get my job back until he does. I feel kind of stuck."

"You can always get a second opinion, you know that right?"

"Yeah, I've been told," Greg answered, looking at his feet.

"I'll get a list together for you on Monday," she said with a smile.

"Thanks a lot Dr. Tracey."

* * *

Sara had dinner ready by the time he'd gotten back. Greg was a bit quieter then usual, but she wasn't too surprised. Sometimes when he'd come back from his sessions he was that way. Sometimes he was still reliving whatever it was they'd discussed, thinking it all over.

"Nick and Amy are stopping by," she said after a few minutes of completely unbroken silence.

Greg nodded but said nothing. He wasn't even touching his food just occasionally taking a sip of water and rubbing his forehead.

"I guess Brass wants a few undercover cops trailing her for awhile considering that you found her hair in the last letter."

He still wasn't looking at her. Didn't seem to be looking at anything. He looked dazed.

"Greg," she said, hating to ask but knowing she had too, "are you alright?"

"I'm fine…"

Greg stopped mid-sentence and stared at her. Really stared. It was the oddest thing. For the life of him he couldn't remember her name. It was just a blank, a complete blank.

He stood up and walked into the living room.

"What's wrong?" Sara called after him, following his lead.

Greg turned to her and could almost hear it in his head. He knew who she was, what she did for a living. He could have told her any number of facts about her life right then, just not her name. Why couldn't he remember her name?

"Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to guess?" she asked now, growing impatient, slightly agitated even.

"Sara," he said suddenly as it came to him straight out of the blue. Loudly even, pointing at her as he did it. Relieved.

"What?"

He turned away from her just as suddenly.

"I think I'm just going to go lay down. I need some rest. You were right; I've been doing too much lately. Trying too hard. It's just all catching up to me."

Greg was already retreating to the bedroom, Sara fast on his heels. He didn't want to tell her what had just happened. It was still scary as hell for him. She'd have an ambulance with a police escort there in less then ten minutes if he told her that after Dr. Tracey had wanted a cat scan he was suddenly drawing blanks with something as simple as her name.

"What just happened back there?" she asked. She wasn't letting him get away easy this time.

"I don't know."

It was the truth. He had no idea what was going on right now at all but she didn't believe him.

"I don't want to fight now," he tried, biting his lips. Practically begging her with his eyes to just drop it. "I'm just going to get some rest. Dr. Tracey's ordered me out of the office until Friday and I swear I'm not going to so much as lift a finger around her until then. I'm going to sleep, eat and drink and maybe read a few books. That's it."

Sara nodded. She felt that something was horribly wrong, something he wasn't telling her, but she had no proof. Strange behavior from Greg wasn't an entirely new thing, but he was pushing his own standards on weird right now.

"Do you want me to let you know when they get here?"

"Who?" he asked as he pulled off his shoes as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Who?" she repeated, "Nick and Amy. I just told you they were stopping by."

"Oh," he said sounding a bit startled, "no. I really should just get some sleep."

Sara nodded, leaned into him and kissed him on the cheek. He had a feeling she was doing it more to see if he was running a fever again then out of any sort of affection at the time, but didn't stop her. Greg had other things on his mind at the moment. Like exactly when Sara had told him anything about Nick and Amy. Try though he did, he just couldn't remember her saying a word about it before that moment.

And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that the only thing he really could remember about the evening was what he couldn't. It had all been a blank until he'd tried saying Sara's name.


	25. Residual

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Notes: **Thanks and such to come in another chapter. : ) But rest assured, this is going somewhere. I'm not just trying to torture my readers.Thanks and keep on reviewing!

**Chapter 25: Residual **

The next day was worse.

Greg hadn't known it at the time, until he'd gotten up, but Nick and Amy had stayed the night. It was still dark out, but early enough in his mind to make coffee. He'd stumbled out of bed and into the living room to find them their asleep. Amy on the couch, curled up like a cat and Nick sprawled out in the arm chair.

Hearing him walk past, Nick stirred.

"That you Greggo?" Nick asked, sitting up straighter and stretching.

"Did I miss a party or what?" Greg whispered as he continued on to the kitchen.

Nick got up and followed him.

"How you feeling?"

"Not you too," Greg said wearily, prepping the coffee maker.

"Sara is really strung out about this. She said you were completely out of it last night," was all he said as he sat down in the nearest chair, glancing at the clock. Quarter to six.

"Truthfully? I wasn't really feeling like myself."

"What's wrong?"

"It's the flu Nick," Greg answered, feeling irritated again.

Nick gave him a look but didn't say any more.

"So what is with the sleepover?" Greg asked instead, trying to change the subject as he got out mugs for both him and Nick.

"Yeah, sorry about that. It got late. Amy was just going to stay herself and I was going back to my place for the night, but I just couldn't make the drive. I'm worn out. Feels like I've been up for days. Brass had some guys at Amy's place all day putting up surveillance equipment and stuff. Getting ready."

"For what?" Greg asked.

"Sara didn't tell you?"

Greg said nothing. She might have, he wasn't sure anymore.

"Amy's agreed to help out in the investigation," Nick said somewhat tightly.

Greg took a moment to really look at him for a change and saw it. The frustration behind Nick's eyes. That familiar look of fatigue. Clearly he did not like this idea at all and was even losing sleep over it. Greg now took his statement at face value. Nick probably had been up for days.

"Help how?"

"How do you think?"

Greg nodded, not really liking the idea much himself. But really at this point, what could she do. She certainly couldn't spend her entire life inside the lab or in the presence of a law enforcement officer.

"How is she doing?" Greg asked as he poured the coffee and joined Nick at the table.

"Alright. Better then most people would be," Nick said as he subconsciously leaned back to peak at her in the next room. She was still sound asleep. "She's having nightmares. Grissom wants her to see a counselor about the whole thing but she doesn't think she needs too."

Greg shrugged. Sometimes he didn't think he needed to either. Still, he made a mental note to talk with Amy about it if he got the chance. It might help.

"So," Greg picked up, "how do you know she's having nightmares?"

Nick looked over to him cautiously until Greg let out a laugh.

"Don't go dragging your mind through the gutter Sanders."

"What? I'm curious. They must be bad if you can hear her all the way from the guest room. Amy's my friend; I have to look out for her wellbeing."

Nick just pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, shaking his head silently.

"That's all I'm saying," Greg continued, still laughing a bit as he took a sip of coffee.

"It's not funny, okay? Nothings going on, she just doesn't want to be alone right now."

"Funny, because when she's slept her she never crawled into bed with Sara and me."

Despite himself Nick laughed, coughing up a good bit of coffee as he did so.

"Now you're dreaming."

"Sometimes it's all a man has."

"You'd better keep it down," Nick said warningly but still amused, "if either of them hears you talking like that they're going to put the hurt on you. And seriously, Sara can kick your ass."

"I've given her enough reasons to lately."

"Bad huh?"

"Yep," Greg said putting down his mug as his stomach began to turn sour again. "Honest, I'll be surprised if she's still talking to me at all when she gets up."

"She didn't sound mad last night. Really, I think she's just worried."

"She sounded mad to me. And you weren't here the night before."

Nick nodded. He couldn't fight that.

"Ugh," Greg said getting up and pouring the rest of his coffee down the sink, "this stuff is killing me."

"Wow, it must be bad if you're tossing out perfectly good coffee."

"Well, it's either out or up."

Nick winched at the comment.

"I'm hitting the shower," Greg said before Nick could say anything else.

On his way there Greg felt himself beginning to sweat. Half a cup of coffee was all he'd had since yesterday afternoon and he knew it wasn't going to be long in his stomach. As quick as he could without actually running, he got inside the bathroom and locked the door. Running the water in the sink first, he just made it in time before he'd gotten sick in the toilet.

Five minutes later, still feeling rotten, he splashed water onto his face. Taking a large gulp of water and spitting it back into the sink to rinse out his mouth Greg was startled to see blood. It was absolute disbelief on his part that made him just wash it away and try to forget it. His rational mind knew better. People with the flu didn't cough up blood. This was serious; he just wasn't ready to deal with it yet.

Twenty minutes later he was getting dressed back in his bedroom.

"When did you get up?" Sara asked, her voice groggy but strong.

"Not to long ago," Greg answered, his voice was hoarse now. Much worse then it had been.

"You never told me what Dr. Tracey said."

"She said flu," he said, sitting down beside her. "Took some blood, just to check but yeah, just the flu."

Sara nodded, taking his hand in hers.

"I'm not trying to tell you what to do," Sara tried explaining, "I don't want you thinking that. That I'm trying to run your life for you."

"Sara, come on…"

"I know I'm bossy," she continued on despite his protest, squeezing his hand, "and can be a little overbearing."

"And a teeny bit unreasonable," he added but with a smile, setting his head on her shoulder.

"Don't push your luck," she laughed back at him. "But yes, sometimes I can be unreasonable. But Greg, really, I'm only pushing so hard because I care."

"I know it. And I'm sometimes a little bit self-centered and hardheaded about these types of things. You've just got to understand though; this hasn't just been going on for the last year for me. It's been my whole life. I've had people telling me how I'm supposed to feel and what I'm supposed to do about it more then enough for one lifetime. It's taken me a long time to get my independence, my parents cared too but I think sometimes they forgot … I don't know what I'm saying."

Sara didn't believe that last part but was reluctant to push for more. It was the most he'd ever told her about the first time he'd had leukemia. She could appreciate now, a little better, what that might have been like. Greg, who lately had struggled with how little say he'd had in the on goings of his own life, then would have had absolutely none. Everything would have been decided for him, for his own good of course, but still. It couldn't have been easy and would have been little compensation.

"Do you want breakfast?" she asked still holding his hand.

"No. I want to kiss you," was his response.

She turned to find him smiling at her, near enough where they could almost bump noses. Sara smiled back leaning in to oblige, but Greg stopped her by turning his head down slightly.

"I want to kiss you," he said again looking at their hands, "but I can't. Not right now. Trust me, you don't want this."

Sara, still smiling, kissed him on the cheek instead.

"I'm going to go shower."

"Better hurry, one of our guests might beat you too it."

Greg watched Sara hurry off before stretching back out onto the bed. A wave of nausea swept over him, stronger then he'd ever remembered before. He'd almost hoped at that point to pass out, rather that then have Sara find him like this, unable to even lift his head off the bed.

Luck was on his side. It had passed before she returned.

Getting up, he slowly made his way back into the living room. Amy was awake now, talking quietly to Nick. Side by side on the couch, sitting much closer then he'd ever remembered them doing before.

"Hey Greg," Amy said lightly as he sat down in the nearest arm chair.

"Good morning," Greg returned. It felt as if a fog had settled into his head. His words sounded thick in his own ears.

"Feeling better?"

Greg just nodded then looked up as he felt a hand fall to his shoulder. It was Sara.

"How'd you both sleep?" she asked, thankfully taking the attention off of Greg.

As they answered, Greg took advantage of the break and left the room. Falling back onto the bed he'd just left and was fast asleep within minutes.

Sara casually watched him go. He was suddenly dragging again, almost listless. Dr. Tracey couldn't have seen him like that, and that was the problem. Instead of mood swings he seemed to have developed health swings if that was even possible. One minute he was just fine the next it was like he was an extra in 'Dawn of the Dead'.

"Sara?" Nick asked, interrupting her thoughts. It was her turn to zone out. She hadn't heard a word he'd said.

"Sorry," she said, sinking into the chair Greg had just occupied, "I'm just, I don't know. Do you see what I mean? Am I imagining that?"

Amy shook her head, clearly as worried as Sara was.

"No," Nick agreed, "that's not right. He was fine this morning. Normal. Then he had some coffee and you could just see it, it made him sick."

"I don't think he's eaten in days," Sara confided. "I haven't seen him have more then a couple of sips of water. Could the residual chemo do all of that?"

"The flu could," Amy offered, "if it's bad enough, but the rest… I don't think that makes sense. He seems just out of it."

"His doctor said that's all it was?" Nick asked. They were all worried now.

"Yeah," Sara answered. "She called Grissom up herself, told him not to expect Greg in until Friday. Said it was nothing serious as long as he took it easy."

"Well, I'd say just keep an eye on him," Nick offered, "at least now he's resting."

Sara nodded. It was all she could do. Greg wasn't really giving her any other choice.


	26. Who Needs Sleep

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Thanks to All: **Miss-Andromache, Sandersgirl, white rose01, Duckie (A Bloom!), Em, pinkprincess6402, BlondeNeko, tabbi, Jen, GottaGetGreg, and fwe. I'm really enjoying everything you have to say and hopefully I'm not causing too much angst! I'm really trying to wind this story up, but at the rate I'm going it feels like its going to be 50 chapters! Okay, so maybe not, I'm thinking right now about 35, give or take a few. Happy reading and thanks again!

**Chapter 26: Who Needs Sleep**

Wednesday night Sara had stayed at home. She'd cleared it with Grissom, brought home the new drowning cases she'd found for to review and copies of the others. She hadn't felt right leaving Greg alone. Everyone else they knew, Nick and Amy included was working and just couldn't get away. She wasn't sure she could afford to now either, but really had no choice. Sara wouldn't have lasted the night because she'd have been too worried and distracted if he was home alone in his present state.

Greg hadn't argued it. After sleeping most of the day, he woke up with another pounding headache. His stomach was as sour as it had ever been and the only thing he could hold down was water, and then only in small sips. If he was being honest, he'd of probably asked Sara to stay if she hadn't already made the plans to do so.

They'd sat for most of the night side by side on the couch going over the files. They had most of the police records there, the only thing missing was the complete list of interviewees, but it was enough. The most interesting thing they'd found was that their homeless guy, Kyle Peterson. It turns out he'd been on Dr. Spencer's payroll for a number of years doing mostly odd jobs at irregular intervals. That only left Angie and Evan Jacobsen and their second drowning victim, Jason Smith, unconnected to the clinic. It was what they'd always guessed; somehow the clinic seemed to be involved in the choosing of victims. Now it was a question of how.

Greg, his head no longer able to take the strain of reading, called it an early night. He showered, shaved and was in bed before nine. Sara continued to pour through the evidence until well past one in the morning before joining him. Greg wasn't exactly resting comfortably. He'd kicked off most of the blankets by that point and was sweating. He looked like he was struggling in his dreams.

Careful not to wake him, she climbed into bed and drifted off without another thought. The stress of the day had finally been too much.

A few hours before sunrise and Greg was up.

He made his way to the kitchen feeling starved. He reasoned that it was a good thing, he hadn't eaten real food in days, but worried he still wouldn't be able to keep it down, hungry or not.

Finding nothing that qualified as light and a breakfast food, he opted for tomato soup. True, it was only four in the morning, but he'd eaten stranger things at weirder hours then this.

Greg took the first few sips tentatively, testing it out, but that didn't last. His hands were almost shaking now from lack of food. Knowing he'd probably regret it one way or another, he practically gulped it down in one breath. He hadn't even sat down, just drank it over the sink. Grabbing a glass of water next, he proceeded to swallow that too in one huge gulp. Rinsing the dishes off in the sink, he stood and waited and after a reasonable amount of time figured he was okay. Still hungry, but not willing to tempt fate, Greg got another glass of water and headed into the living room.

Skimming back through the case files was how Sara found him around seven.

"Sleep well?" she asked, joining him on the couch, tucking her feet in underneath her as she sat.

"Not bad," he answered truthfully. He'd felt better now that he had some food in him. "Hey, are we sure that Angie Jacobsen didn't go to that clinic?"

"It's not in the file."

"Yeah but," Greg said, picking up the interview transcripts he'd just put down, "Look. When they talked to her neighbor it was mentioned that she thought that she was getting some help."

"Help for what? That's not a lot to go on."

"I know. They didn't ask any follow ups, just took it at face value." Greg said, somewhat peeved.

"How long have you been up?" Sara asked, taking a good look at him.

"A few hours," he responded.

"You look better. Color's back."

"I feel better. Even had breakfast."

"Good," she said with a smile, kissing him on the cheek before leaning a head onto his shoulder.

"Dr. Tracey wants me in for a cat scan on Monday."

"What?" she asked, looking up at him startled. The appointment had been nearly two days ago and she was just now hearing this?

"I know I should have said something sooner."

"Did she say why?"

"Something about my pupils. I think she thought I was doing drugs."

"Well, we've all thought that about you at one time or another."

Greg smiled at her, relieved she wasn't mad. If she was making jokes, she wasn't mad.

"It's probably nothing," he reasoned out loud.

Sara nodded, not smiling anymore. She was worried again but so glad he was telling her.

"Can I go with you?" she asked.

She had started to just tell him she was, but changed her mind. He'd been right about that, she was starting to make his decisions for him. To run his life and she didn't want him thinking that. Sara didn't want to do that.

"It's pretty boring," he started, "but if you want I don't see why not."

Greg was taken back that she'd even asked. Taken back, but not much. They'd never really talked through their argument from the other day and it looked like they didn't have to any more.

"Let's go back to bed," she suggested.

"I'm not really tired. I slept most of yesterday, remember?"

"Well," she said smiling as she stood and taking his hands, "maybe we won't sleep."

"Oh," he replied, standing up now, hands resting gently against her hips. An obscene smile plastered on his face. "Really? Sara Sidle, I didn't think you were that type of girl. The sun is not even up."

"If you're not up to it…" she started playfully, pulling him off towards the bedroom.

"No, no, no," he protested, "I'm feeling much better."

"Good," she said, stopping in the doorway to pull him into a long kiss.

"Much," he repeated.

* * *

Amy sat in the break room waiting for Nick. It was a quarter after nine and he still hadn't gotten back from his scene. Warrick and him had been called out late that night. Nick had been her ride in and out of work since she started back that Monday.

Yawning and desperate to just stay away, she took another cup of coffee and sat down.

"Still here?" she heard a familiar voice ask from the door.

"Hi Grissom," she said, feigning alertness. "I'm waiting on Nick. He drove me in."

Grissom nodded.

"They just called, shouldn't be too much longer."

It was Amy's turn to nod. She thought he would leave after that, but he hadn't. To her surprise he came into the break room and joined her at the table.

"I talked to Brass," he began, "he told me you'll be helping with the sting."

"Yeah," she answered, looking into her cup. "I kind of feel like if I didn't…"

She trailed off, not certain what she felt. Amy wanted to catch this guy. Not just for herself, so she could sleep at night without Nick or someone else nearby, but for the others. He'd already hurt so many people. If she didn't at least try, she didn't think she could live with herself. And let's face it, with his track record, she probably wouldn't live.

"You don't have to worry," Grissom tried to reassure. "Jim Brass is a good man. He'd never put you in harms way."

"I'm not worried. I trust him, I trust all of you. Everyone has been really great."

Grissom nodded.

He liked Amy. Grissom was aware that not everyone felt that way, that some of the other lab techs found her stand offish, but he'd never seen it. If anything, to him she just seemed quiet. She was good at her job, worked hard and was professional. Well, sometimes she strayed slightly off the professional path, owning almost entirely to what he saw as Greg's influence, but it made her more likable.

"Hey Griss," Nick called from the doorway. "Amy, I'll just be another ten minutes or so. Got to grab a shower first."

Grissom and Amy looked up at him. He was filthy.

"Take your time," Amy called and he smiled back at her before leaving. "Exactly where was their last scene?"

"Foothills," Grissom said with a smirk. He'd purposely staid back because of all the wet weather they'd had. "Makes for very muddy crime scenes."

Amy laughed.

"Have you considered what I suggested," Grissom began again, more serious this time.

"About counseling? Yes and I really don't think I need it. I'm really fine, shaken still but okay. I've got a lot of help. Like I said, everyone's been great."

Grissom noticed she'd glanced slightly towards where Nick had just retreated too as she'd said that.

"Alright then," he said taking her word for it. In all likelihood she was in good hands. He trusted Nick and knew that if he was watching her as closely as he thought Nick was, then she'd be fine.

Grissom said no more and left. Amy felt slightly relieved. She like Grissom, thought he was a great boss, but man was he intimidating.

Nick was back in less then ten minutes, hair still wet but ready to go.

"Where are we going?" he asked, once they'd gotten into his jeep.

"My place?" she asked more then answered.

"Okay," he agreed, "just let me stop and get some things."

They didn't even discuss it any more. Nick was going where ever she wanted, staying where ever she wanted until she said otherwise. Their relationship, if it could even be called that, was really nothing more then friendship. True, she really didn't sleep well unless he was beside her, but it was nothing more. Nick hadn't even so much as kissed her on the cheek.

They were at his house in no time.

Amy had been there several times that week. She'd marveled at how clean he kept it, despite never seeing him actually do anything to keep it in order. His refrigerator was hopeless. It mostly consisted of baking soda and really old cheese. All she could assume was that he must eat out a lot.

"So," he called from the next room as he'd pulled a few things together for that night. He knew he wouldn't be back for another day at least. "Get anything good today?"

"Oh no," she said, slumping onto his couch, so tired she could barely keep her eyes open. "No work talk. I'm done. You can just wait for the results of whatever semen, blood, DNA cocktail you sent to me to process until tonight."

She heard him laugh in the other room and as she did she shut her eyes.

"Amy?" he asked much closer now.

She opened her eyes to find him sitting down beside her.

"Was I sleeping?" she asked.

He just nodded, smiling at her.

"Sorry," she said trying to shake it off, "too many days off. I got use to sleeping at night again. I start dragging my feet around three now."

"We can stay here if you want," he offered.

Something about that was appealing and scary. It would be the smartest thing to do; after all they were here already. Nick looked tired too and he probably shouldn't be driving. But it was scary. It sounded stupid but she'd never slept in a man's bed with whom she hadn't been intimate with before. And it felt too intimate. Not that sleeping together in her bed wasn't, but at least there is was a kind of unwritten rule that she was in charge. Here would be different.

"I can sleep on the couch," he said as if reading her mind.

"No," she countered, blushing despite herself. "I wouldn't be able to sleep like that."

She had only meant that she couldn't sleep knowing she'd kicked him out of his own bed, but it had sounded like more. Amy, in the back of her mind, knew it did mean more. She just didn't want to press it.

"Come on," he said, taking he hand and leading her off to the back room.

Amy felt almost giddy. She couldn't help it, her heart was fluttering. It was such a schoolgirl feeling, such a schoolgirl crush she had on him, but she couldn't stop it. She almost felt drunk on that feeling, that high.

"I know nothing I have is going to fit you," he apologized.

"I'm okay in this," she said still feeling every bit as nervous and apprehensive without knowing why.

Mentally she kicked herself. They'd done this all week. It's just sleeping. It's just comfort. He was only trying to make her feel safe.

They both silently took off their shoes, it had become an inside joke between them, and as Nick closed the blinds; they lay down on top of the covers. Another unwritten rule. They never slept under the covers. That might be considered crossing a line.

"Goodnight," Amy said softly, looking into his eyes.

"Goodnight," he repeated, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand putting a smile on her face.

Amy closed her eyes but couldn't sleep. Her mind was racing. There were too many things to consider. Too many things to try not and think about. Like Nick, beside her. So sweet and caring. So obviously never going to fall for her. He was concerned, but nothing more.

Amy had never thought much about her own merits. She'd never had anything remotely considered luck when it came to men. And men like Nick didn't like girls like her. They liked women.

"Amy?" she heard him after several minutes. His voice was soft, quiet even. Not usual for Nick. It was as if he was just curious if she was still awake or not.

She opened her eyes but said nothing. She didn't have too.

Nick touched her again, caressed her cheek. Just looked into her eyes and decided it all upon her smiling back at him. It was time. Time to stop playing stupid games, pretending he didn't care the way he did.

Slowly, careful and deliberate, he leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips. She didn't stop him, didn't move, didn't breathe. Just shut her eyes and took in the feeling of his lips on hers.

That morning nobody slept.


	27. Care Package

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Chapter 27: Care Package**

Nick's phone was ringing. He vaguely recognized the sound, it seemed so distant. Miles away, but he'd heard it.

Slowly he disentangled himself from Amy, reluctant to leave her but desperate to find the source of the noise. He made his way down the hall to where he'd left the offender, sitting on the counter top in his kitchen.

"Stokes," he mumbled into it as he checked the clock. It was just after two in the afternoon. He'd be lucky if he'd been asleep for three hours now.

"Nick," he heard Grissom on the other end, way too alert for this time of day, "do you know where Amy is?"

"Yeah," he answered. That he definitely knew. "What's wrong?"

"Bring her in. Both of you. There's been a development."

"What's wrong, what's happened?" he asked, feeling more alert now. Awake. It couldn't be good; Grissom would sound different if it was good.

"I'll tell you when you get here," was all he would say as he hung up the phone.

Nick sighed, setting it down again.

He headed back into the bedroom and sat down beside Amy on the bed. Again he found himself brushing the hair out of her face, making him smile despite the bad feeling he was developing over Grissom's call.

"Amy," he said touching her arm gently, "time to wake up."

Amy's eyes opened slowly as she sat up part way.

"No," she said as she lay back down, "it's too early."

"It is, but Griss called. He needs up both in."

"What happened?" she asked, still not moving but opening her eyes a crack.

"Don't know," he answered gently tugging her into a sitting position. "He didn't tell me."

"Fine, but we need to swing by my place. I've got to change. Grissom looks like the type of guy to notice that I'm wearing what I wore last night."

Nick didn't have a problem with it, just hopped into the shower himself and got dressed. Amy was nearly asleep on the couch again in the short time it took, but still ready to go. By the time they'd gotten to her place a steady silence had fallen between them. Amy had been just as quick as Nick had, just in and out of the shower really and into a fresh set of clothes. She paused as she pulled her hair, still wet, into a pony tail and smiled awkwardly at herself in the mirror.

It was so odd.

She was starting to think she'd dreamed it. That she'd fallen asleep and dreamed this morning. Nick certainly hadn't said anything, hadn't acted any different. Maybe that's just how he was. Or maybe, they were already so relaxed around each other that they didn't have to say anything. Still.

It was odd.

Wasting no more time, she hurried out into the living.

"Okay," she said heading towards the door, "you can blame me for making us so late."

"Wait a minute," he said joining her and taking her by the hand.

"I thought we were rushed here?" she asked, feeling herself blush.

"We are," he agreed, "but I'm probably not going to get another chance to do this if I don't now."

"What?" she asked looking up at him with a funny smile. Uncertain.

Instead of answering her, Nick leaned in and kissed her. Amy found herself pulled into his arms quite easily.

"Now we can go," he said after breaking apart from her.

Amy smiled all the way to the lab. For his part, Nick did too. They kissed once more in the garage and then tried to knock the silly grins off their faces before setting off to find Grissom. He wasn't in his office or the break room. It was just after three now and Nick knew they'd taken too long getting there. Finally, they caught up with him. Him and rest of his team, Greg included, in the conference room.

"Sorry," Nick said, ushering in Amy ahead of him.

He wasn't going to offer any type of explanation unless asked. Let them all just think they were late and that would be enough. Except Nick could already tell at least two people there didn't just think that. Warrick and Greg were already suspicious given the looks they'd cast his way.

Sara had been talking about what she and Greg had found. The new victims and the connection at least one of them had to the clinic. Also that Angie Jacobsen might have been there too. Catherine and Warrick, still the technical leads on this, would track down the neighbor today and get some more information. Lucky for them it had only happened five months ago.

Nick was already wondering why this warranted such an early meeting, when Grissom made it all unnecessary. He'd pulled out a box.

"This was in the lobby this morning," Grissom explained. "It's already been processed without any luck."

Grissom began to pull something out of the box, clearly in an evidence bag.

"That's my purse," Amy said before she could stop herself.

"Your ID was inside," Grissom said with a nod.

Amy got up to examine it for herself. Everything in her purse was in individual evidence bags, which normally might have amused her, but not now.

"How'd it get here?" Warrick asked.

"A man came in around nine this morning, dropped it on one of the chairs where it went unnoticed for an hour. The daytime receptionist found it. Brass is reviewing the tapes right now with Archie, trying to get a clear picture of the guy."

No one in the room could quite believe it. First the attack in the parking lot and now the guy had strolled right in and out of the lobby.

"This was inside of it," Grissom continued, holding up a photograph.

Most everyone had crowded round now to get a look, but Grissom didn't show them the picture, just the back. It had one word on it in the same familiar style. 'SOON'

"What's it a picture of," Nick asked.

"It's not important," Grissom responded uncharacteristically.

Everyone looked at him now, confused and startled. It was three words they'd never heard from him before. Catherine caught on the quickest, knowing that it probably was very important but probably equally disturbing.

"Warrick," she said trying to change the topic, "let's get going. We'll try Angie Jacobsen's neighbors again. See if we have some better luck."

Warrick nodded, still looking at Griss odd for a second, before turning to leave.

Amy seemed the least suspicious of them all. She was still looking at the contents of her purse. Greg had joined her, offering himself up as a distraction. Nick and Sara were still staring down Grissom, not that he was going to give any time soon.

"Why were you carrying a yo-yo in your purse?" Greg asked, picking up the evidence bag and looking it over. "It's not even a good one."

"I forgot about that," she said looking now for herself.

Greg saw the other three leave. They weren't going to let up until they knew what that was a picture of. He was curious himself.

"I don't want to know," Amy said at Greg's expression.

"They're not subtle are they?"

"No," she smiled. "I get the feeling it was me Grissom didn't want to see that photo and I'm fine with that. I'd probably never sleep again if I had."

Greg just nodded and out of habit, continued to shift through the evidence.

"This is my private property Greg," Amy said in mock offense at the way he was eyeing it all.

"Sorry," he said putting down the Tic-Tac's he'd picked up. "Habit."

"You're all alike."

Greg smiled at her.

"You look better," she commented.

"I'm feeling better. I hope it's finally passed."

Amy nodded.

"Should we dare it?" she asked, indicating the door.

Greg just headed to the door after putting everything back into the box, certain the worst of it had to be over by now. Nick and Sara had probably already seen the picture, whatever it was, and Grissom was probably already back in his office.

Sara was sitting in the break room when they got there. Nick and Grissom no where in site.

"Hey there," Greg said, getting her attention. It took a minute.

"Ready?" she asked, standing up.

"You okay?"

Sara looked pale. Looked really shaken and it wasn't often that that happened.

"I'm fine," she answered, not looking at either of them.

"Where's Nick?" Amy asked now, growing concerned herself.

"Still talking with Grissom. He'll be out in a minute."

"I'm going to take her home," Greg said to Amy, Sara didn't seem to notice. "You'll be okay?"

"Yeah," Amy assured him taking a seat at the table. "We'll talk later."

Greg smiled at her and left, guiding Sara by placing a hand on the small of her back, she still looked lost in thought.

As Amy took some coffee from the nearby pot she began her wait. At the time, she didn't know how long of a wait it would be.

* * *

"What was it of?" Greg asked as they sat in the car.

He'd started it but they hadn't left the garage yet. The anxiety on her face was enough to cause him more then a moments panic.

Sara shook her head, not in a negative. Not that she wouldn't tell him, just trying to get it out of her own.

"It was Amy," she finally said.

"What? When was it taken?"

He'd suspected that maybe it was of her building, or another crime scene. He hadn't expected that.

"Last Friday. It was her, laid out of the ground. In the parking lot."

Sara's voice sounded hollow to her own ears. She knew it must to Greg as well. It had been like glimpsing the future. Amy dead and part of an investigation. It was taunting and cold.

Greg said nothing. He'd never been happier to not have seen something. Naturally curious, he'd almost detoured off to see it for himself back at the lab, concern for Sara had stopped him. Now he never wanted to see it, not if it affected Sara this way. He couldn't imagine what Nick felt.

"Let's go home," he said softly.

Before they got far, Greg began coughing. He had to park the car even, his coughing was that bad. Sara, still distracted, handed him some tissue and asked if he was alright, but otherwise didn't fret they way she had been.

"Yeah," he answered, his voice once more sounding like gravel.

While Sara was looking out the window, thinking the whole case through he imagined, Greg looked down at the tissues she'd handed him. The ones he'd coughed into. They were flecked with red. Not a lot, but enough.

He said nothing, didn't react at all. Just crumpled it into his hand and shoved it down into his own coat pocket. Greg still wasn't ready to deal with it.


	28. Luck

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Chapter 28: Luck**

Nick was furious.

Not long after Sara left, Grissom had asked Brass to join the two of them in his office. They wanted Nick to help in the stake out, to be a part of it, almost entirely owing to the fact that knowing him as they did, he wouldn't have rested until they'd let him help, but that wasn't the problem. The problem wasn't convincing him he'd be involved, it was convincing him to be involved.

After seeing that picture they only thing he wanted to do was get Amy and go. Just get the hell out of there. He didn't know where, didn't care. They wouldn't even stop to pick up their things. Just drive. Drive until they were out this state and maybe the next.

It was frustrating, that feeling. Nick had never run from his problems, but this was different. This man was going to kill her. After getting away with it for so long, after all the people he'd killed with flawless precision, this could only be seen as desperation. Their guy wanted the attention now. Was tired of being overlooked. That's why he'd started targeting them, giving clues and warnings. He'd gotten bored with his own game and was looking to end it. And these things never ended well.

"Nick," Brass reasoned, "she's going to be safe. We're going to have unmarked cars around the building and two guys in the lobby."

Nick still shook his head.

"She's already agreed. She knows what's involved."

"She hasn't seen that," Nick countered indicating the picture. He didn't want her to either.

"We've already got cameras in the corridor. We can see anyone within twenty feet of her front door. It's the only way in."

Nick nodded, he knew that was true, but he still didn't like it.

"Nick," Grissom asked, "what is it that you really have a problem with here?"

He hadn't asked in a condescending tone. He really wanted to know. Nick had good instincts about these things, wouldn't be reacting this strongly without reason. Grissom just thought his reasons might lean a little more towards Amy then towards actual reservations with the operation.

"It feels like a setup," Nick answered. It was the best he had, but true. "This guy's never done anything like this before that we can find. One of the victims would have gone to the police or someone they knew if he had."

Grissom nodded, seeing his point.

"It just feels like we're being setup for something," he continued. "I don't know what, but I'm not willing to risk Amy's life on it."

"It's not your call," Brass said firmly, standing up as he did. "I'm going to go talk with Amy again. See if she's still up to it."

Brass left and Nick started to follow when Grissom stopped him.

"Nick, let him go alone."

Reluctantly, Nick sat back down.

"It's not right Griss. You know it too."

"I agree; this is definitely not our guy's MO. We're not seeing something here."

Nick nodded absentmindedly. He wanted to know what Brass was telling Amy. What he was saying and how she'd react. They were planning to start immediately.

After a few minutes of silence on both their parts, Nick trying to reign in his emotions and Grissom going through everything they had mentally, Brass was back, this time with Amy.

"Give us half an hour," he said to her before leaving.

"You're doing it." It hadn't been a question, more of an accusation.

Amy was surprised by it. By Nick. She knew he hadn't been very happy with the idea in the first place, but thought he'd see reason. What else could she do?

"Yes," she answered regardless, looking straight into his eyes, unfaltering.

Nick looked away first. Couldn't take it any more.

"Let's grab lunch," he offered. "While we wait."

He knew what Brass had meant, that they needed at least half an hour to get the officers in place at her condo.

"Actually," she cut in, this time not sounding as certain, "he wants me to go alone."

She didn't have to look at him to tell he was mad. It rolled off of him like waves.

"My car is still here," she continued. "I'm just going to wait for Brass to call back before I leave."

Grissom felt like he was intruding, something he rarely felt. He wasn't use to listening to what was increasingly sounding more and more like a private exchange. Of course, seeing as they were blocking the door, he had no means of removing himself.

Nick didn't know what to say. Amy didn't look steady at the moment. He realized she hadn't been alone but for maybe ten minutes at a time since the attack. That she'd had someone always ready in the next room since the attack even during those times. But she seemed determined.

"Okay," he said, his voice sounded strained, "I'll wait with you."

Amy smiled, thankful. She wasn't sure how she was going to do it yet herself, but she said she would. Had promised. Now she had too.

* * *

Sara had regained her composure on the drive home. It had been very unnerving to think about, to see, but she was better now. Still, she needed some rest. Sara was working that night and decided instead of talking it all through with Greg, as he no doubt wanted, she'd nap. He didn't object, even tucked her in playfully, before going back out to kitchen himself.

It was time to test his stomach again.

Still feeling starved, this time he tried toast. Dry toast. It hadn't been as easy as the soup, but he'd still gotten it all down. Relieved, he poured himself another glass of water and headed back into the living room. Not much later, only three chapters more into his book, there was someone at the door.

"Where's Amy?" was the question, not the greeting, Nick received from him.

"Sara tell you?" he asked in return, stepping inside as Greg moved out of the way.

"Yeah, which is why I ask again, where's Amy?"

"Back at her place," Nick answered, sitting down.

"Alone?"

Greg sat too, fighting down that familiar rumbling in his stomach.

"Brass' orders. They're starting surveillance today. He wants the guy to see her alone."

"For how long?" Greg winced.

"Until they catch him I guess," Nick answered still uneasy. "Sorry to barge in here by the way. I tried going home first but couldn't. I figured if I didn't come here I'd probably just end up at Amy's anyway. I may just go back to work. I don't know."

"No," Greg waved him off, standing again. His stomach felt like it was beginning to reject the toast. "It's not a problem. Stay as long as you need."

Nick nodded looking up at him.

"You okay?"

Greg shook his head, admitted it.

"I'll be right back," he managed before rushing off to the bathroom.

Nick watched him go, not certain what to do next. Before he could decide, Greg was back looking only slightly worse. He sat down again and Nick saw his hands trembling.

"I can't eat," Greg blurted out. "I'll be the only known person to starve to death with a full fridge in the same room."

"So you haven't had anything since when?" Nick asked, momentarily forgetting his other concerns. Greg rarely opened up and admitted he was having problems. When he did, if you didn't take immediate action, he was likely to clam up for good.

"I had soup today. Scalded my mouth, I was just so hungry. I'm still hungry, I just can't…"

Greg trailed off in frustration.

"Before then?"

"I don't know. Monday?"

"It's Thursday Greg, you haven't eaten since Monday?"

"It's not like I haven't tried." Greg answered with a shrug.

"What about liquids, water? That okay?" Nick asked, remembering his reaction to the coffee on Wednesday morning.

"It's better, not much though. I'm not dehydrated yet, so it can't be bad."

"You should go to the hospital, you know that right?"

"I do," Greg said reluctantly. "I just want too. They'll want to put me on an IV, give me a bunch more meds for the nausea. I just want to give it another day. I'm not dying, it's just the flu."

"People die from the flu Greg."

"Stop with the logic," Greg said in tone that indicated the conversation had officially ended. He wasn't going to talk about it again. "Do you think she's okay?"

"Must be," Nick answered, knowing who she was without asking. "She's supposed to call before she leaves for work tonight."

Greg nodded, glad for it. He couldn't believe that her first drive in alone, at night no less, was going to be easy on her.

"I'm going back in," Nick said standing up. "Maybe find something so we can get this guy. So we can all sleep again."

Greg stood with him, walked with him over to the door.

"Take it easy," Nick said, clapping him once on the shoulder.

"You too man," Greg returned as he watched him leave.

* * *

Late that night at the labSara had finally gotten the interview lists put together. Archie was feeding the names into a database. He'd convinced her it would be quicker, but she still didn't see how given the time it took to set up. But he'd had a point. It would be able to match any names off of the interview lists and the employee records from the clinics quicker and with more accuracy then she could manually. She felt strongly that all of the victims must have something or someone in common. Now they just had to find it.

Leaving him to it, she went and checked on Amy.

"How's it going?" she asked.

Amy had made it in alright that night. She had called Nick, asked him to wait for her outside before she'd pulled up, which he had. Her first day alone had been okay, but she hadn't slept. Sara thought she looked weary.

"Not bad," Amy said still looking into her microscope. "I'm almost done with this one here."

"I didn't mean the case," Sara said with a small smile. "I meant you, how's it going with you?"

"Oh," Amy said looking up now. "I'm okay too. It's weird. I know that there aren't any cameras in my house, but I feel watched. All the time."

"Can't be an easy feeling."

"No," Amy agreed, "I thought it would be helpful, like having some one there, but it's not. It's more like a reminder."

Amy looked down again.

"We're going to solve this," Sara said reassuringly. "We're closer now. A lot closer."

Amy wanted to believe it, but just couldn't yet. Sara sensed it and said no more.

"I'd better get back to work," she said instead.

Amy nodded, smiled even. She wanted to work as well. It kept her mind off of things.

Sara's next stop was the break room where she'd ran into Catherine.

"Any luck today?" she asked.

"Some," Catherine said. "Angie Jacobsen's neighbor, Marsha Simmons remembered making the statement. Said our vic was having personal problems, started therapy."

"At the clinic?"

"No," Catherine said with a small shake of her head. "She couldn't remember with whom but knew it was a private practice. She thought that the investigating officer had tracked it down, but wasn't sure. I got his name, we'll call him tomorrow. He may still have it in his notes. She was glad to see us but sorry she couldn't help more. Wished us luck finding the guy."

Sara nodded appreciatively. They needed all the luck they could get.


	29. Decoy

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Notes: **Hey, can you hear that? It's the sound of this story wrapping up. Hold on tight! : )

**Chapter 29: Decoy**

Greg saw Sara that morning in the office. He was officially allowed back to work but still didn't feel entirely up to it. Sara had worked late, hoping Archie had finished, but without success. He promised her it by the afternoon and having to settle, she'd thanked him and gone home to get some rest.

Amy hadn't looked good herself, but had worked so hard last night there was nothing left for Greg to do but wait for crimes to happen. They'd talked for a good half an hour in the lab until she seemed to realize that she wasn't waiting for anyone. Amy had gotten use to going home at the end of shift with Nick, but that wasn't happening anymore. As it dawned on her she made an awkward goodbye and left Greg alone in the lab.

Nick had shown up not five minutes later, evidently having been waiting outdoors for Amy. Upset at missing her, he didn't say anything more to Greg, just left.

His day had been long and slow. Greg, if he hadn't been able to eat at all, was planning on going back to Dr. Tracey that day. Fortunately for him, that wasn't the case. He'd managed soup again for breakfast, chicken and stars this time and even held down some crackers at lunch. Plus, plenty of water. Water was becoming his new favorite drink.

Sophia had stopped and chatted with him on and off throughout the day. She'd complained about his temporary replacement and hinted at the fact that she'd probably just have to get use to it. She seemed to think Greg was going back to his own shift soon. That had made him feel good. Real good.

Unfortunately, it was a slow day all around. Night shift really did get the best crimes. Sophia didn't even have so much as a fender bender to investigate, so she was soon off doing paperwork leaving Greg alone.

Just after four, as Thompsen from swing shift arrived, Greg noted that Archie and Sara had too. After signing out, he stopped by briefly to see what was happening. Maybe if they'd gotten something, but so far it was a blank. Archie wasn't quite ready yet and Sara was chomping at the bit.

With no time for anything more then a quick hello and goodbye, Greg was off. He had what he thought might be his last appointment with Dr. Fenton to get too. Greg was getting that list on Monday from Dr. Tracey and if he didn't convince him tonight to at least try and go off the meds, he was jumping ship and getting that second opinion he'd heard so much about.

* * *

It was just after six in the evening and Amy was trying to not be a nervous wreck.

Brass had called her. Let her know. Someone was on his way up to her condo. She had hourly contact with whoever was on duty at the time, obviously Brass now. Still, she wasn't sure what to do. They'd told her to do nothing, that they'd take care of it, but all the 'what ifs' started to surface in her mind as soon as she'd gotten off of the phone.

Two minutes had passed and now someone was knocking at her door.

She hesitated; they'd said they'd get to him first. Before she could decide what to do now her cell phone rang again.

As she answered it, she heard Brass' familiar voice on the other end. Angry.

"Put Stokes on," was all he'd said momentarily confusing her.

Nick wasn't there, unless. Looking out her peephole, sure enough, there was Nick.

Amy pulled open the door, looking slightly miffed, and handed him the phone.

"It's for you," she said walking away as he took it.

He shut it and the door without a word.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm not going to stay long," he reasoned, "and he can yell at me later. I wanted to see how you were doing?"

"You could have called to do that," she answered, any real agitation she'd had virtually gone. He looked so sincere.

"No I couldn't, I can't see you over the phone."

She smiled thinking he was way to charming to be real.

"How are you?" he asked, coming closer.

He knew he shouldn't have come, but couldn't help it. This time Greg and Sara had both been out and there had been no one else to stop him. After missing her that morning, he'd just needed to see her now. Nick hadn't been able to sleep at all that day thinking about it.

"I'm fine," she answered stepping further into his arms, "really. They call if so much as a cockroach looks at my door."

"Good," he said, rubbing her back, pulling her close. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," she echoed, blushing.

Before anything else could happen her phone rang again. Nick, still holding it, answered.

"I'm going," he said into it before his face changed.

"Okay," he said calmly hanging up.

"What?" Amy asked.

"The guy, the one who dropped of your purse, he's here. He's in the building."

"Where?"

"Just got into the elevator."

Amy nodded. Ready or not, it was time.

* * *

"Sara," Archie called from the doorway. "I think I got something."

She got up in a hurry, leaving her dinner on the table in the break room. It was just after six now. She hoped against hope that Archie was right. That he did have something.

"Okay," he said as he sat back down at his computer. "I took all of the lists of people interviewed, friends and family and such, from all of the victims and found no clear matches. Dr. Sanchez and Dr. Spencer's names turned up a lot, but considering they worked at the clinic it wasn't too much of a surprise."

"So?" she asked.

"So, I added in the list of employees from the clinic. Still nothing."

"Archie, please tell me this is going somewhere."

"It is," he promised. "I then just checked the employee lists against the interview sheets from the victims we knew were in counseling outside of the clinic."

"That's only Angie Jacobsen."

"No, Jason Smith your overdose and Dr. Spencer were also in therapy."

"Really?"

"Yeah, that's how I got a hit. When I ran their interview sheets with the clinic employee roster one name came back."

"And it was?" she prompted.

"James Fenton," he said, evidently pleased.

Sara thought it sounded familiar. Knew she'd heard it before.

"He worked at the clinic on occasion, about once ever two to three months. Plus, he was both Smith and Jacobsen's therapist."

"So he's a doctor too," Sara said, hearing it now in her head.

Really hearing it.

"Dr. Fenton," she said in disbelief.

"Yeah," Archie said. "I looked it over; it doesn't look like he was even questioned before."

Sara didn't hear him. She knew where she'd heard the name now. Dr. Fenton. It had to be a coincidence. Had too, but she couldn't be sure.

"Tell Grissom," she said to Archie, turning on her heels and dialing Greg on her phone as she left.

Despite the first time it going straight into voice mail, a sure sign it was off, she hung up and tried again. No luck.

"Damn it," she said, not sure what to do next.

Stopped in the middle of the hallway, she literally turned circles. She debated just going straight to Grissom herself, but didn't. She didn't think she had time. Instead, she dropped back into the lab.

"Did you get a hold of Grissom?" she asked.

"Already?" Archie asked sounding surprised.

"Yes, now. I mean it. Tell him I'll be back later too. I've got to go check on something."

"Are you okay?"

"No," was all she answered as she turned again and left.

* * *

It felt like an eternity.

Amy sat on the couch as Nick stood near the door waiting. Brass called back not two minutes later, they had him.

Nick hadn't wanted her too, but Amy wanted to go. To see him. Wanted to see the guy face to face. Get it over with.

After clearing it with Brass, they came down to the lobby. He was there, handcuffed and apparently pleading with the arresting officer.

"But I'm just making a delivery," he was saying. He looked like he was her age, just in to his twenties.

"This late?" Brass asked, "Who do you work for?"

"I'm a mechanic, at Bob's Auto Body."

"Making deliveries for Bob huh?"

"No," the guy said, not noticing the extra scrutiny being placed on him by either Nick or Amy. Focusing only on Brass. "For some guy. He gets his car fixed at the shop. Gave me fifty bucks to swing by here tonight and drop off that box. Honest."

"And the purse?" he asked.

"That too," he said. He looked petrified.

"Take him in," Brass said to the officers.

He came over to where Nick and Amy were.

"This isn't right," he said to Nick, shaking his head. "That kid didn't do this. Nearly wet himself when our guys surrounded him."

"Yeah," Nick agreed. He had an arm around Amy's shoulder, protectively. She was shaking slightly.

"But why?" she asked. It was confusing and she just wanted it over.

"It was a setup just not for you," Nick said to her. "You were the decoy."

* * *

Grissom held up his hand for silence as Archie tapped once on the door. He'd just picked up the phone.

"Grissom," he said into it, simultaneously waving Archie in.

"Gil, it's Althea Tracey," he heard on the other end.

"Dr. Tracey," he responded, "what can I do for you?"

"Actually, I hoped you'd know where I could reach Greg at."

"Nothing serious I hope."

"I'm sorry to say, but it is. I've just gotten his blood work back."

"Bad news?" he asked, hoping he was wrong.

"I'm not sure I should be telling this to you," she said solemnly.

"I understand I'm his boss but I'm also his friend. I'd like to help if I can. Is he in trouble?"

Archie now looked extremely uncomfortable in his chair. Grissom let him know, non-verbally, that he'd find him once he was off the phone. Grateful, he left.

"I don't know if he's in trouble," was the honest reply. "But he has got nearly four times the normal FDA allowable limit of Elavil in his system. He's close to an overdose. It's probably accidental on his part, but he needs to get to the hospital now."

"Is there more?" he asked really concerned but sensing her sudden pause.

"Valium, smaller amounts, but present. The two are not a good combination."

Grissom frowned. Greg wouldn't have taken them on purpose. There had to be another reason.

"Could they be prescribed?"

"No, not together. Dr. Fenton wouldn't do that. No doctor would. It would cause all sorts of problems."

"I don't know where he is now, I imagine at his home, but I'll get someone by there to check on him."

"Get him to the hospital Gil," she said again instead of goodbye.

Grissom stood to go, heading there himself to check on Greg. Dr. Tracey, all the time he knew her, had never sounded that concerned. Even when Greg's cancer had been at its worse, she hadn't sounded that way. If she was worried, he was too.

Passing the computer lab on his way out, Archie caught sight of him and jumped up.

"Grissom," he called.

"I know I said I'd get to you next, but can this wait?"

"No," Archie said seriously, walking and talking with Grissom as he left. "Sara and I got a hit off the lists. One name. She told me to tell you ASAP."

"Tell Catherine and Warrick to check it out," he said still heading towards the exit.

"I have already," he said still following, "but she was adamant that I tell you too. Before she left."

"Where did she go?" he asked, finally stopping.

"She didn't say, just that it seemed important."

Grissom nodded. He thought he knew what it was about. If Greg was in trouble she'd know it. That was reassuring. Sara would get him help, but to be sure he'd call her next.

"So who was it?" he asked Archie. "What did you find?"

"James Fenton," he answered. "Only name that is connected to all the victims."

"Dr. Fenton?" he asked, much as Sara had.

"Yes," Archie continued, "he's a psychiatrist. Worked at the clinic and saw two of the victims regularly as patients."

Grissom's entire face seemed to fall. It all clicked now. Turning quickly, he practically ran back to his office. To his phone.

"What is it?" Archie asked, fast on his heels.

Grissom didn't answer. He needed to get a hold of Brass. He had a bad feeling that it wasn't Amy they should be watching.


	30. The Last One

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Chapter 30: The Last One **

Earlier that evening Greg had arrived on time to his session.

Dr. Fenton had greeted him much as he'd always done. Sitting down, Greg initially refused the offered drink, but he'd insisted. Dr. Fenton always insisted so Greg gave in. He took a glass of Sprite thinking it might even settle his stomach.

"So, tell me about your week?" he asked. He always asked that on Fridays. On Tuesdays he started with 'tell me about your weekend', it was fairly routine now.

After talking about it for the first fifteen minutes, he'd casually change the topic. Dr. Fenton usually had a topic he'd wanted to discuss during a session. Greg was still finding himself getting use to it; Dr. Sanchez had taken a completely different approach. She tended to just let him talk about whatever was on his mind, gently leading the conversation when she thought he'd hit on something key. Dr. Fenton was more direct. He had an agenda, definite things he wanted to find out. Greg had preferred Dr. Sanchez.

"You told me once you were spiritual."

Greg guessed the topic of today was morality.

"Yeah," Greg said finishing off his soda. "I am. I guess I am, probably as much as the next guy."

"Heaven and hell? Is that what you believe?"

"I'm not sure. I grew up being taught that. Heaven, hell and purgatory. But it sometimes doesn't seem fair. Just how bad do you have to be to get sent to hell? I'm certainly broken a few commandments, does that mean I'm damned?"

"I can't answer that," Dr. Fenton said standing up and getting Greg another drink.

"Yeah, no one can," he said. "But, I'm not a bad person, I don't think. True, I'm no saint, but I do what I can. My job, I wanted to do this job because I liked helping people. That should count for something, right?"

Dr. Fenton just smiled at him.

Greg took another drink of his soda, a longer one this time. He felt thirsty suddenly. Very thirsty.

"Do you consider yourself better then most people?" Dr. Fenton asked.

"That's a loaded question," Greg said with a smile. "If I say yes, I'm an ego maniac. If I say no, low self esteem."

Now Dr. Fenton laughed.

"Seriously Greg, do you?" he asked again.

"I don't know. People in general, they do some messed up things. I haven't been doing this thing long, my job, but I hope I'm better then that."

Greg felt the room tilt slightly, but shrugged it off. Took another drink of soda instead.

"What about the people you work with? Do you think your better then they are?"

"The people I work with, no. Definitely not. Grissom's like a genius. Sara too. I'll be lucky to ever know half what they do. And it's not just that they're smart, they're good people. Caring in their own ways. Nick and Warrick are like brothers to me, the closest I've ever had. And Amy's like a sister. Cath would hate this, but she's such a mom. It's good though. We're a family really. I'm not better then them. If anything, they tolerate me, sometimes just barely."

"How do you see yourself in that dynamic?"

"I guess I'd be the annoying little brother. That's an easy role. I'm still trying to prove myself, gain acceptance in a way. Respect maybe? I don't know."

"You don't feel respected?"

"No, that's not true. They respect me. I'm not sure what I mean, what I'm looking for."

Greg's vision swam again. Clumsily, he put down his drink, nearly missing the table. Dr. Fenton either didn't notice or didn't comment on it. Just kept on.

"You don't sound certain of that."

"I am," Greg answered, his voice sounded thick in his ears. He'd felt this way before. Early in the week.

"Greg?" Dr. Fenton asked now, reaching out and grabbing him around the forearm.

Greg cringed at the contact. He was holding on to him too tightly. Much too tightly.

"I think I need to go," Greg tried to say. He tried to move, but seemed to be experiencing another episode like he had earlier in the week. His body felt laden with lead.

"You shouldn't be driving like this," Dr. Fenton said, having first pushed him back into his seat and then released him. "I'll take you home."

Greg had started to object. He had wanted to say he could just call for a ride and that it wasn't a problem, but as he tried to do so, to stand and do so, he fell back into his chair. He had been helped of course by Dr. Fenton who now had a hand firmly planted on his shoulder.

"Greg," he said leaning down near his ear, "it's for the best."

He didn't remember much of the ride. Greg didn't remember much of anything after he'd almost fallen out of the chair. Somehow they'd gotten to his apartment. Dr. Fenton must have gotten his keys, but Greg couldn't say when.

His next completely coherent thought came as he was back in his own living room. He heard talking, thought it might be the television. Thought he might have been having a fever dream about everything that had happened that day. He'd never felt like this before. Just blinking seemed to make his head hurt.

Slowly he turned his head, and now Greg knew he must be dreaming. Dr. Fenton was on his couch, talking to him.

"What happened? Did I pass out?" Greg asked feeling sick to his stomach again.

"Yes," he said, turning to him slightly. "You did. You're going home now."

"This is my home."

None of this made sense. Greg tried to stand and found he just couldn't. His legs felt like he'd run a marathon. His arms too for that matter.

"No," Dr. Fenton said standing, shaking his head. "You're being sent on. To find out all the answers. Granted, you may not like what you have to hear. Given what you've told me about your life, I can't say for certain."

Greg was trying to shake the fog from his head. Trying to not just throw up. Why wasn't any of this making sense?

"Like you, in my line of work I've seen a lot of things. Some 'messed up' things. Some 'messed up' people. You know what I've learned? You can't help them all. Some people are past that point. It's best to just send them on."

Greg looked at him, really focused. This wasn't normal and it wasn't a dream.

"Do you know why I took you on as a patient?" he continued, not waiting for a response. "After I sent Laura on, cleansed her of her sins, I was curious as to whether or not anyone was on to me. Human nature. I'd done everything I could to cover my tracks, but we all make mistakes."

Dr. Fenton was sitting down now, had pulled up the coffee table and sat down in front on him. Greg could still hardly move. His breath was all caught in his throat.

"I've cleansed a lot of people, more then you or your genius colleagues have figured out judging by what you've told me. I was upset, surprised even when you told me what your friend, that pretty little Asian girl, Amy right? When you told me that Amy found my fingerprint. That you had my DNA. I'm a man of science too. I knew I didn't have much time."

Dr. Fenton reached over to him and undid his belt and slid it off of him in one quick movement. Greg tried to stop him. Tried to move, but only saw his hands give a slight shudder in response.

"No," he said in his normal calm voice, "you don't have to worry about that. It's never like that. That would be unclean."

He took hold of Greg's hands, they were trembling still, and fastened them together with the belt. Greg still couldn't speak or move, but his mind was racing. He noticed it now, Dr. Fenton had on gloves and a hat. He desperately wanted to just wake up, to have this all be a dream but reality was sinking in around him.

"You're going to be my last," he said with a smile, standing up again and pulling Greg up with him.

The movement made his head worse. Made it spin faster. Greg shut his eyes and fought down the urge to vomit. Before he knew it Dr. Fenton was sitting him down again, this time in his bathroom. Looking over, Greg saw the bath tub was already full. He'd seen the photos of Evan Jacobsen and Jason Smith and knew what happened next. Briefly he wondered what Doc Robbins would say about death by drowning, if it was one of the better ways, but he couldn't dwell on it. There wasn't time.

"You know what your real problem is?" Dr. Fenton asked, he'd only put Greg down to rest for a moment, "You're too smart. You think too much. It's really a shame Greg, it's not that you're a bad person really. It just has to be done. You'd have figured it out sooner or later and I can't give you the chance."

Greg was on his feet again against his will. He tried to fight it, but whatever it was that made him feel this way was just too strong. Greg knew he should be yelling and kicking. Doing something but it wasn't in his power. In one quick movement he felt himself falling and sinking. Under the water. Into the water and he couldn't move. He couldn't even struggle. He'd held his breath on instinct. He was a good swimmer; he could hold his breath a long time. Opening his eyes, he saw him there. Standing over him. Good swimmer or not, he couldn't hold his breath forever.

What he couldn't do was panic. Couldn't allow himself to panic. Greg tried to stay calm but it was hard. That's when he realized, he could move a little. His legs weren't completely immobile. Trying to push himself up, he'd managed to get part of the way out of the water, to just break the surface. He managed another half breath through his nose before he felt his head being pushed under.

Now he was panicking. Kicking as much as he could, but unable to get his head even part of the way out of the water again. Dr. Fenton's gloved hand was firmly planted on his head, so tight he could feel his nails even through the fabric. And Greg saw those stars again. Stars he hadn't seen in a while, black and invading his vision. Greg knew he was close to blacking out. Shut his eyes for a moment and when he reopened them he felt his lungs screaming in pain, but no one was in the room.

Desperately he tried to push himself up again, but was too weak. To weak to push himself up even half an inch. His feet couldn't find any traction, they flailed. His eyes were shutting again. Greg was blacking out, releasing air he knew he should hold on too. It wasn't his choice any more; his body was acting counter to what his brain knew to do.

Then he was coughing. That's all he'd remember before coughing, spitting up water on the bathroom floor. Trembling from fright and exhaustion.

"Greg? Oh God, are you alright?"

He knew that voice. When did she get here? How?

"Greg," Sara said again, her voice was strained. She sounded like she was crying. "Talk to me please."

He was on his hands and knees, still coughing. Greg's hands were still bound in front of him as he rested almost entirely on his elbows and knees.

"Sara," he tried to say, but it didn't really come out at all.

She was rubbing his back now, touching his neck. Greg pushed himself up as best he could, backwards so he could sit. Sara caught him half way and helped him lean back, undid his hands, ran a hand of her own over his face. He looked pale and his breathing was labored.

"What happened?" she asked.

Greg shook his head. He didn't know, couldn't say. It was foggy, all of it. His hands still shook, but at least now he could move them. He could move again, his whole body now, but it was slow work.

"Where is he?" he asked her.

Sara didn't have to ask who.

"I don't know," she answered.

Her voice still sounded odd to him. He'd never seen her this way.

"Stay here," she said to him, getting to her feet, "I'm calling for help."

Greg tried to stop her. Something came out of his mouth, something like a no. He didn't want her to leave. He felt like he might pass out again, but she was gone before he could stop her.

He'd expected her to just come right back with the phone. After a minute, after she hadn't returned, he tentatively got to his feet. It hadn't been easy and he nearly toppled over in the process.

Steadying himself against the sink, he saw it. Sara's gun. She must have come into the apartment with it drawn. She'd been expecting trouble. Greg thought that could only be a good thing, the rest of the team must know too. Must suspect Dr. Fenton, why else would she be here now. Greg wasn't lucky like that. They had to all be on their way now, but then why had Sara have to go and call for help?

"Greg," he heard from the next room, but it wasn't Sara's voice. "Why don't you come out here and join us. It looks like you won't be my last after all."


	31. Relief

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Notes:** Happy New Year!

**Chapter 31: Relief**

Brass had been surprised at Grissom's call. They'd just arrived at the police station. Nick and Amy had followed him, were in his office when he took the call. It had taken a few minutes for it to sink in, sink in and make sense.

"What was that about?" Nick asked.

Brass didn't look up right away after hanging up the phone. Instead he stood.

"You two," he said grabbing his things again. "Get back to the crime lab. Grissom needs you."

"What's happened?" Nick asked again.

"We've got a lead."

"On the guy?" Nick asked, following him back down the hall, watching as he barked out orders. Demanding people get to their feet and follow him.

He stopped only once they reached the dispatch desk, having never fully answered any of Nick's questions.

"Get some cars over to Royal Palms, apartment 208. Now. I'm following behind."

"That's Greg's place," Nick said. "What's happened?"

Brass finally turned round to him. Nick looked a little sick with worry now, Amy worse.

"The guy, Sara got a hit, a name. Only guy with connections to all the victims. A doctor James Fenton. Grissom just told me. He's worried, can't reach either Sara or Greg on their cells. Apparently this guy is Greg's shrink. You were right; he probably set this whole thing up with Amy to lead us off the trail."

Nick shook his head, incredulous. He hadn't wanted to be right. Not like this.

"Catherine and Warrick have already been by his place, but found nothing. They just got back from his offices, nothing there either, just his car."

"I'm coming with you."

"No," Brass said firmly, "Grissom wants you back at the lab. Both of you."

Nick set his jaw, but said no more. As quickly as they could they got back into his jeep and headed towards the lab.

"Is this real?" Amy asked quietly.

It didn't seem like it. Nothing did. They could both be dead, no one knew.

"It'll be okay," Nick said firmly, taking her hand in his. "They're fine. It'll be fine."

Amy looked at him, but he just stayed focused on the road. Turning away she wished she had his optimism. She really did.

* * *

Greg had staggered out of the bathroom towards the sound of the voice. He had a hard time walking, but he'd managed. Somehow he'd managed.

There he was again, Dr. Fenton. He had Sara in front of him, pulled close with a knife at her neck. She looked slightly dazed and was bleeding a bit from the corner of her mouth.

"Come have a seat Greg," he said, indicating the chair again with his head. "I promise to make it quick for her."

Greg didn't move.

"I can't be here all night," he began again. "We have to get you on your way. I thought she might enjoy seeing you go first. Let's find out if Sara's a spiritual person too. It's a very moving experience. Have a seat and we can begin again."

"Let her go," Greg managed. It was the clearest his head had felt in hours. Whatever was causing this must be wearing off.

"You're in no position…"

Dr. Fenton stopped abruptly. He saw it now, why Greg wasn't cooperating. He'd leveled his reason at him. Greg had Sara's gun.

"She'll be dead before you can pull the trigger," he reasoned.

"So will you then," Greg said flatly.

It still felt like a nightmare to him. He hoped Dr. Fenton didn't see what he could, that his hands were still shaking. Greg had never raised a gun at anyone before, just paper targets. He didn't look at Sara, couldn't. If he did, he'd put the gun down. He was aiming at Fenton but she was so close. Greg wasn't sure he could pull the trigger if he had too, but that wasn't important. Getting Fenton to believe he would was.

"I think you're lying to me."

"Just let her go and I'll put it down."

"Greg," Sara started to say, but Dr. Fenton pulled her tighter around the waist, pushing the air out of her.

Forgetting himself, he looked into her eyes. She was afraid. Terrified. So was he. Dr. Fenton smiled when he turned his eyes back to him.

"You're not going to shoot me are you? You can't."

Greg shook his head, but he had lost some of his nerve. His vision was swimming again. He had a hard time keeping it all in focus. He was praying now to just stay awake and on his feet.

"You don't know what I can do."

Dr. Fenton laughed. It was sharp to his ears.

"I know you Greg, everything you've told me. All your secrets. You're in over your head now. Just put it down."

Dr. Fenton moved the knife closer to Sara's throat. Greg took a step forward, steadied the gun with his free hand.

"Half a pound of pressure," Greg said, "that's all it takes. I could take your head off with this."

"Have you ever shot someone before? Ever? I don't think so. We'd of talked about it by now. You'll miss. Take her head off instead."

"Did we ever talk about my marksmanship skills?" Greg asked in return.

He was too scared to give off his normal tics. The ones he had when he lied, or even stretched the truth some. Greg wasn't a bad marksman, it was true, but he wasn't a crack shot. He knew he wouldn't fire that gun unless he had too and then only if Sara was well out of the way. Dr. Fenton, judging by the look in his eyes, wasn't as certain as he had been. Wasn't sure about Greg right now.

The stand off might have lasted longer had they not heard footsteps coming up the steps outside the door. Heavy footsteps, like someone running.

Greg, not thinking, still feeling the medication in his system causing his mind to cloud, turned to look. It was all the opportunity Dr. Fenton needed.

In a quick movement he threw Sara up against the wall, stunning her with the sheer force of it. Greg turned back and saw her fall. Saw her crumple to the ground and yelled. Momentarily he lowered the gun, still not thinking. Everything was moving so slow. Dr. Fenton was on top of him, lunging and pushed him against the wall.

The struggle continued.

Greg heard pounding at the door. He thought he might be bleeding, maybe he'd been stabbed, but he couldn't feel it. His adrenaline was too high. Greg was just trying to stay on his feet, not an easy task. More importantly he was trying to keep the gun out of Dr. Fenton's hands.

Despite his best efforts, he felt himself sliding down the wall. His legs had given out. Greg felt he was blacking out again. Saw those stars. But he still had the gun, and someone was still trying to get in from outside. He thought if he could just hold on for another second, help was almost there.

Just as the door flew open, Dr. Fenton lunged at him once more, knife high in the air, and Greg did the only thing he could. He fired the gun.

It was as if time sped up again.

Dr. Fenton fell next to him; momentum carried him despite being shot. There were people shouting, yelling at him to drop the gun. He'd just managed it before Greg felt himself slipping out of consciousness.

"Hang in there kid," he heard a familiar voice.

When he next opened his eyes, he fit the voice to the owner. Brass was there. He looked worried. He was standing over him; a couple people he didn't know were nearby. Looking at him. Looking him over. Greg wondered why they had a stretcher.

"Sara?" he tried asking.

"Don't speak sir," one of the men next to him said. Greg recognized the uniform, he was an EMT. He even thought he knew him.

"She's okay Greg," Brass answered. "She's in the ambulance already. Don't worry about her."

Relief washed over him as he shut his eyes once more.

* * *

Waking had been a slow process.

Greg felt that someone was beside him. Sitting nearby. He moved his fingers slightly, trying to touch their hand.

Sara took it in hers and smiled as he opened his eyes.

"They're thinking of naming this the 'Greg Sanders' suite."

He laughed and then wished he hadn't. It hurt to laugh.

"Sorry," she said coming closer. "I was just happy to see you. You shouldn't be laughing."

"I'm not now," he said weakly. He'd hardly recognized his own voice. It was like gravel. "How long have I been out?"

"About seven hours," she answered.

"Really?" he whispered. It was easier that way.

"Yeah," she nodded. "They had to get you into surgery right away."

"Surgery for what? Was I shot?"

Greg had just noticed the cast on his left arm.

"No, stabbed. Five times, but you got lucky. Nothing vital, just some internal bleeding. And your arm, it's not broke they just don't want you using it till it heals."

She looked like she might cry.

"What about you? Are you okay?"

"Me?" she asked, "I'm good, fine. Just a little shaken up."

"Come here," he said, wanting her close. It was all coming back now.

Sara obliged, got as close to him as a hospital bed would allow. As close as she could without him having to move. Most of his wounds were right to his midsection. Moving around was going to be painful for awhile.

Greg leaned up to her and found that out the hard way, but it didn't stop him. He still kissed her. Sara was crying now.

"I was so scared," she said into his ear, leaning in closer almost shaking.

"Me too," he returned, "but it's over now, right? They've got him. It's over."

Sara stopped and looked into his eyes. Trying to gage how much she should tell him.

"They got him, right?" he asked again. She could hear it in his voice, real fear.

"He's dead."

Sara saw it sinking in. The wheels were turning. He was remembering it now.

"I shot him."

"Yes."

"I…"

Greg didn't finish it, turned from her slightly. Feeling what, relief? Maybe that it was over, but something more.

He'd killed someone. He'd shot and killed someone.

Greg didn't know how to feel about that.


	32. The Zoo

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Chapter 32: The Zoo**

Sara peeked into the waiting room looking for them. Sure enough, on the far couch were Nick and Amy. It was a quarter after three, but they were still there. Amy curled up on the couch with her head in Nick's lap; Nick with his arm draped around her waist, awake but staring blankly at the television nearby.

His eyes shifted back into focus as Sara came towards him.

"He up?"

"Yeah," she nodded, sitting nearby "the on call doctor is checking him out right now. You want to go see him?"

Nick nodded briskly before leaning down to Amy, whispering something in her ear which Sara couldn't quite hear and then kissed her lightly on the temple. Amy stirred, looked from Nick to Sara in one fluid movement.

"Greg?" she asked; her voice a bit scratchy from the sleep.

Sara smiled and nodded and the three of them stood to go.

"He's in some pain," Sara was explaining, "so he can't move a lot. They couldn't give him half of what they should have because of all the drugs in his system."

"How much does he remember?" Nick asked, stopping Sara before she opened the door.

"A lot I think. I've already told him about Fenton."

"What about the rest?" Nick asked.

Sara just shook her head.

Nick nodded, looked at Amy as she squeezed his hand and Sara opened the door.

Nick managed a smile as he saw him, but it wasn't easy. Greg's left arm was in a cast, he was still hooked up to the oxygen and IV, and truth be told, he looked a little green.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, coming right over next to him.

Greg smiled back, weakly. He'd always liked that about Nick, he never hovered in the door like most people would. Just walked right in, unafraid.

"I've been better," he answered in a hoarse whisper.

The doctor who'd been in had told him to only speak when necessary. That they'd pumped his stomach, something he thankfully could not recall, and that it would take a few days for his voice to get back to normal. In addition, the blood he'd been coughing up for the last few days was caused by an ulcer. All the additional meds Dr. Fenton had been pumping into him during his sessions had started eating away at the lining of his stomach. Nothing too serious fortunately, it just needed time to heal.

"Hi Greg," Amy said, trying the whole smiling thing out for herself, but it looked pained. She looked like she might cry. Greg motioned her closer.

"See Amy, this is how to get a day off. If you're not in the hospital, they just think your faking."

Amy laughed despite herself. Greg always made her laugh, it was a gift.

"Everyone would be here," Nick said, pulling up a chair, "probably will be here soon, but there was a lot to do back at the lab. The place is a zoo, they called in everyone. All three shifts."

Greg looked over at him with interest.

"Ecklie tried to take over the case, sending Cath on a rampage. The swings supervisor swept in and told them both off, said since you were involved that neither of them should be. That they were too close to it."

"They're all that eager to fire me?" Greg asked, somewhat amused and somewhat disturbed. He really was expecting a pink slip after this incident.

Nick clammed up as Sara gave him a look. He'd said too much and he knew it. He'd only been trying to keep Greg occupied, but had picked the wrong topic.

"What?" he asked, looking to Sara. "Have I been fired?"

"No," Nick assured.

"Then why such a mess?" he asked. He thought he understood why Cath would want it; she'd protect him if she could.

"Thanks Nick," Sara said as she crossed the room and picked up the remote. "This is why."

Greg looked to each of them, confused, as Sara flipped on the set mounted on the wall. After changing a few channels, she left it. Put down the remote and sat down gently at the foot of his bed.

"Nick at night?" he asked, trying to figure out what was going on..

"Just watch," Sara instructed.

"….Dr. James Fenton, forty-two. He is believed to be responsible for at least nine deaths over the last two years in the Las Vegas, Nevada area. Circumstances surrounding his death have not yet been released…"

"So it made the news," Greg commented, talking over the young anchor woman on the television. "That's… "

He stopped cold. Eyes glued to the screen.

"Why am I on television?" he asked, forgetting to speak softly, his voice cracked from the strain.

"…the home of Gregory Sanders, twenty-nine, a crime scene investigator assigned to the case…"

There was no mistaking it was him. It looked like his most recent badge picture from the lab. And then there was Sara, up on screen as well as they talked about her now.

"Turn it off," Greg ordered as he began coughing. He didn't want to see any more.

Sara hit the button and screen dimmed. Amy poured Greg some water for which he quietly thanked her. His head was spinning.

"So," he said looking at Nick and then Sara. Trying hard to be positive, "how long before this blows over? Before the locals get tired and go back to gambling."

Again, Sara looked at Nick like she might just hit him.

"Do I even want to know?" he asked sounding seriously upset now.

"That wasn't local," Nick answered.

Greg motioned for Sara to hand him the remote, which she did reluctantly. He immediately flipped it back on. They'd moved on to something else, but Greg saw now that it was indeed CNN. Surfing a few channels up, he found Fox News. They'd just finished repeating it apparently; Greg saw his face momentarily on the screen. It was the same everywhere. Before he could turn it off, he saw that MSNBC had a live shot of what looked like the very hospital he was in. Frustrated, he turned it off.

"Oh God," he muttered, starting to cough again. "My parents, did someone tell my parents?"

He was picturing the shock they were in for if they'd seen him on the news.

"Griss called them, they're on their way here," Sara answered.

She'd talked to them too, not long ago when Greg got out of surgery. She wasn't about to tell him right now that his mother was in near hysterics.

"Are they really outside?" he asked.

"Yeah," Nick answered this time. "I'm sorry man. It's pretty big news. Cath and Warrick finally got into his house; he's been doing this for years. I know the news said nine victims, but it's going to be a lot higher then that."

"Do you think I could have a minute?" Greg asked, running his good hand through his hair. "Collect my thoughts and all." Mentally he added, 'enjoy my last moment of privacy.'

"Sure man," Nick said getting up. "All the time you need."

Amy waved goodbye as Nick took her by the hand, giving him a small smile and feeling terrible. Sara rubbed his leg as she stood to go as well.

"Wait," he said, reaching out for her.

She turned and came back.

"I know it's me up there," he said indicating the T.V. "but it's you too. How are you handling this?"

"I don't know yet," she said running her own hand over his head, "I haven't really had time to think about it."

In truth, she was really just an afterthought in the story so far. The news programs were only showing her picture now because they didn't have anything else. An official statement wasn't being released until the morning.

"It'll be alright," she said, "it'll die down in a few days."

"I hope so."

* * *

Warrick and Catherine could hardly believe it.

The lab had been frightening enough; Nick hadn't exaggerated when he'd called it a zoo. With every CSI called in on duty that night, there had been more then one territorial stand off. Having lost the fight to continue on with the case to Ecklie, they left around seven to go and see Greg.

It was like jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire.

Cameras were everywhere, cordoned off a hundred feet from the entrance, but still madness. Reporters, guessing mostly from their attire why they were there, screamed questions at them. It had been hard to ignore, to just keep walking.

"Insane," Catherine mumbled as finally made it in.

"Tell me about it," Warrick agreed.

"Excuse me," a security guard stepped forward and stopped them. "Only family and authorized visitors allowed right now."

"We're with the crime lab," Catherine said, pulling out her credentials. Warrick followed suit.

The man took them both, examined them, and handed them back efficiently.

"You here to see Sanders?" he asked, looking down at his clipboard.

"Yeah," Warrick answered. There was something about his tone he didn't like.

"Sixth floor. Room 604."

He stepped aside and let them pass, Warrick turned round briefly, watched him another second before continuing on to the elevators with Catherine.

"He's just overworked Warrick," Catherine said once they'd gotten inside.

"Like Greg wants this," he mumbled.

Catherine understood his frustration. None of them wanted this. Scratch that, Ecklie was loving the attention. No one in their right mind wanted this.

They made it up to his room, passed one more security guard. Apparently some less scrupulous members of the press had tried to get in that morning.

It wasn't surprising to find Nick, Sara and Amy all there with him.

"Hey Greg," Catherine said, glad to see him up and smiling. "How are you feeling?"

"Surreal," he answered holding up the newspaper he had in his lap, "like maybe they gave me too many pain killers and I'm having hallucinations."

"Then I wouldn't suggest a stroll outside any time soon."

Greg laughed. There was no fighting it at this point; he'd just have to roll with it.

"Where's Griss?" Nick asked to Warrick.

"Picking up Greg's parents at the airport."

Greg nodded, glad for it.

"What's it say?" Warrick asked, leaning over to take the now offered paper from Greg's hands.

"Not much," Greg said, "just the basics. Nothing specific, although depending on what you read or watch, I'm everything from a level two CSI to an undercover cop. The truth was probably too boring."

Warrick let out a chuckle and Catherine smiled. They could both easily tell he wasn't really happy about this, that he was laughing and making jokes because it was all he could do. His eyes looked concerned, worried about what the media was going to print next.

Right now, they almost made him sound heroic, but that would change. It would change as soon as they found out Dr. Fenton had been his psychiatrist, that he was on anti-depressants and that he'd threatened to kill himself last year. Throw in his relationship with Sara and his battle with cancer and it was a Springer special waiting to happen.


	33. Home

**Issues by SLynn**

**Disclaimer:** I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

**Notes:** Okay, are we all ready for the end? I hope so, because here it is. Finally. : ) It's been fun writing this and yes, I am thinking up a third. Last time I know I said that I wasn't sure when I'd get a sequel out and then bam it was done, but this time I mean it. I'm fixing to move and have no idea what to write, other then I really do want to continue this as a series. So, I do have some ideas about a sequel, but nothing concrete. It will definitely deal with some of the lingering angst from this piece and the first and yes, probably lots more Nick and Amy. I may even write one just about them. I'm not sure yet. So give me some time, let me get my ideas all lined up and I will return.

Thank you so, so much for everyone who took the time (yes, I know this is long) to read this and especially for everyone who took the time to review it. It really kept me motivated and focused and I hope you like this ending. This is the most I've ever written in the shortest amount of time, so I will be going back and editing soon. I realize that there have been mistakes made, thanks to everyone who has gently pointed them out!

Specific thanks this time to: Sandersgirl, Miss-Andromache (I may write the Nick/Amy piece just for you – I think you like them even more then me if that's possible!), white rose01 (can you believe I debated NOT killing him – I considered a trial for a sequel, but decided not too; you're right, he needed to go), fading-lights, ThreeDollarBill, fwe (thank you again for reviewing my story!), carolann, GottaGetGreg (BTW – love your name! and yeah, I never really came out and said Amy was Asian until now – I thought I had, but re-reading I realize I just implied it with her last name, Chen; I'm not too good at the describing the characters part!), Em (you've been on to me the longest re: Dr. Fenton – I even threw in the red herring bomb guy because of you), samsgurl23, and Jen (I hope I can continue to keep everyone's attention this well, at least through this chapter!).

Particularly, I loved everyone's guessing! I realized as most of you knew it was Dr. Fenton and that I'd never really set anyone else up to be the villain. Trust me, that will not happen again. So even if you knew it was Dr. Fenton, I hope you were at least surprised that it was Greg not Amy he was after. : )

Now, on with the show!

**Chapter 33: Home**

The week Greg spent in the hospital passed almost in a blur.

His parents arrived that first day worried, but saw that he was okay. With just minimal information and continuous coverage to go off of, they'd really expected the worst. Maggie Sanders had cried, wept at the sight of him. She'd of pleaded with him to quit immediately and just come home if she thought it would make a difference, but she knew better then that. Jeff Sanders was stoic, tried to be reassuring to both his wife and son, but it had been hard.

Ecklie had stopped by that first day as well. He'd arrived with Brass and they'd conducted an interview. It was a formality really. The first two officers on the scene had witnessed the last part of the attack. They'd seen Greg get stabbed and that he had clearly fired in self defense. It was open and shut, at least as far as Greg was concerned. The matter of Dr. James Fenton was a different story.

In his basement, with his printing press, they'd found stacks of journals. He'd kept very detailed records of those he'd killed, dating back at least ten years. He'd escalated his killing over the last two, but had averaged at least couple each year. If his notes were true he'd 'sent on' over forty people. Not all of them had been patients or even acquaintances; some just appeared to be random strangers he'd observed on the street. Dr. Fenton had collected a startling amount of information about their lives too. Each person had a journal of their own, Greg included.

The media continued to feed on it. Ecklie had tried numerous times to convince Greg to grant an interview or at least attend a press conference, but he refused out right. He didn't care if it cost him his job he wasn't going to do it. Greg wanted it all too just go away if possible. Eventually, Ecklie relented and offered himself up to the press in Greg's place. For the time they seemed placated.

The only silver lining to the whole ordeal was that the review board reversed their decision. They'd had little choice. The media really was playing Greg out to be the hero, even if he didn't want to be, and the initial report being that he was a CSI stuck. Ecklie hadn't wanted to correct it, hadn't wanted to say that he was only a lab tech, a recently demoted lab tech at that, so he had him reinstated.

He wouldn't come back right away, they'd ordered him to take a month of administrative leave, but it was paid and he'd get his old job back, even on his old shift. The only criterion to be met was that he and Sara could not work directly together. He was okay with that. Sara was put on paid leave as well. Although not hurt, she was still witness and still a victim. She'd been a part of it too.

The irony of the whole thing, at least in Greg's opinion, was that now they were demanding that he go into therapy. Not just him, Sara too. Sara had flat out refused. Had refused so much that only when threaten with her job did she agree to attend the mandatory two-week group therapy course. Greg hardly blinked an eyelash at it. As soon as he was out, he'd go. Another great irony in his opinion, his fear of therapy seemed to have vanished.

Two days before Greg was to be released, Sara asked Nick and Warrick to move their things into her place. She hadn't been to the apartment since the incident; she'd stayed with Amy on the nights she didn't spend at the hospital. As soon as the scene had been released she got Greg to terminate the lease. He didn't mind, neither of them thought they could live there again.

Nick and Warrick had agreed to help without argument; the only problem was that between Greg and Sara they had way too much stuff to fit into her apartment, despite its sparseness. Most of it ended up in Nick's garage. Sara and Greg had discussed it before, but now it looked like they'd go through with it. Once he was out and better, they'd house hunt. It was a huge step but felt almost natural. In the mean time she was sure to bring the things she knew Greg would want the most to her place, mostly meaning his CD's and hair gel.

The day of his release had been strange. The press that had surrounded the event during the course of the week had been sporadic, had seemed to have died off some, but they'd all come back on that day. They knew Greg was leaving and everyone wanted a picture or a sound byte. It was decided that his father would accompany him out and it had been pandemonium. He actually needed a police escort as his father wheeled him out to the waiting car. Once inside Jeff had tried to say something reassuring to his son, but couldn't. Greg understood. What was there to say?

They'd agreed that a small group of people would be waiting for him at his and Sara's new place, formally just Sara's place. It had included the regular team, Amy and Sophia and of course his parents. It had been nice and reassuring. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits. They'd talked and laughed like nothing was wrong. And really, nothing seemed to be. Greg still couldn't get around quite so quick, but otherwise he really did seem okay.

The party broke up naturally. Warrick, Catherine and Grissom left first. They were on that night and had things to take care of before going in. Sophia was next; she said how much she was going to miss his company on days but was glad he was going back to where he belonged, home. Nick and Amy stayed longer. The three remaining couples all got along very well; talking with good humor for most of the night, but even that had to end. Nick was on that night and had to leave before it got too late.

Jeff and Maggie Sanders were the last to leave. They had an early flight back in the morning and were really sorry to go. They'd come and gone so much to Vegas over the last year it was becoming second nature, but of all the times they'd left this was the hardest. They'd come to accept that accidents and disease could take a loved one, even their son, but having almost lost Greg at the hands of a madman had been difficult to swallow.

After they were alone Greg had begun to help Sara put things away, but had very little success. He realized he didn't know where anything went and had to give up.

"Don't expect to get away with that excuse forever," she chided.

Greg laughed like he'd been caught. It had been nice.

He laughed for real when he got a good look at her bedroom.

"Hey Sara," he called out to her. "Can you come here for a minute?"

"What is it?" she asked, curious as to the tone of his voice.

"How are we both supposed to sleep in that?" he asked, indicating the bed. The double bed. He'd had a king at his place where they'd spent the majority of their time until now.

"We've slept here before," she said dryly, not seeing his point.

"No," he said shaking his head, "we didn't sleep then. Other stuff, yeah. No problem. We take up less space. But sleep, side by side? No. Not going to happen."

Sara told him he was being silly, but to prove his point he lay right down in the middle, and looked up at her. She laughed at him before leaning down and crawling up towards him smiling the entire way. She curled up beside him, arms around round his chest with her head on his shoulder.

"See," she said into his ear, "plenty of room."

Greg didn't say anything for a minute.

"You're falling off the bed aren't you?"

"A little," she admitted with a laugh.

He scooted over and turned on his side to look her in the eyes.

"So are we really buying a house?" he asked.

It was hard to tell if he was being serious.

"If you ever want a bigger bed then this we may have no choice."

"Seriously, if it's too weird or too soon, we don't have too. I'd understand if you want me to go find my own place again."

"No," she answered sincerely, "I want this. We should have something that's ours."

"We could rent something that's ours," he offered.

Greg was insistent on giving her an out. He didn't want one for himself, but he didn't want Sara to feel obligated. Not like this. They'd talked about it before, but it had just been talk. Idle. A sometime in the future kind of thing. This was now and it was serious.

"I want something real, something like a home." was all she said and it was enough.

The next day was their first official day on administrative leave. It was also their first day of group therapy. Another stipulation Sara had was that she wanted to attend the same sessions as Greg. He didn't mind, thought it might even be fun. It was going to be her and him and a bunch of other cops rattled by recent cases and talking about how they were still fine to do their jobs. Greg had even joked that at least they'd have the best story to tell.

The time off had been good. They'd never spent so much time together and were pleasantly surprised to find that it suited them. Mostly they house hunted, called realtors and figured out exactly what they could and could not afford. With both of their incomes they'd be able to get something fairly nice. Not 'Amy's condo' nice, but definitely livable. Three bedrooms in a good neighborhood was all they were asking for.

On their second week off it happened. It was bound to happen sooner or later, but Greg had just assumed since it hadn't yet that it just wouldn't. But it did. At the grocery store as they were checking out someone recognized him. They'd actually made quite a scene about it too, asking him all kinds of questions he wasn't ready for. Greg tried to shrug it off, insisted he didn't know what they were talking about, but it was obvious he did. Eventually he had to just walk out leaving Sara to finish up and find him in the car five minutes later.

They didn't talk about it that night but the next day after Sara had gone on her morning run she'd come back to find that Greg had dyed his hair.

"Was there an accident with the bleach?" she asked innocently.

He shrugged and said nothing, just kept his eyes on the television.

"I'm not sure about it," she said sitting down next to him on the couch, "I was getting use to the natural look on you."

"I needed a change," was all he responded.

She understood. Playfully she ran a hand through it. Oddly enough, he looked more like himself then he had in ages. Parts of his hair now patchy blond, odd angles in every direction.

"Admit it," he said with a smile, "you always liked it better this way."

"Maybe," she said smiling back.

For a moment they said nothing, she just looked at him intently.

"Is this about yesterday?" she asked, still running a hand through his hair.

"A little," he relented.

She just nodded once and kissed him slowly before getting up to change and shower. They didn't need to talk about it again.

Group therapy complete, they still had two weeks of paid leave to go. Greg had been right, they did have the best story and it hadn't been nearly as bad as Sara had thought it would. She'd wondered briefly if Greg would start private therapy again, but didn't ask. She trusted now that he would tell her when he'd decided.

At the end of the third week they'd driven to California to see his parents. It had been a good long weekend. She'd shown him the places she'd always loved in and around the bay area and he did the same for her. It was their first real vacation together and their first road trip. Greg finally got to drive. Having survived the experience with their relationship intact, buying a house seemed like child's play.

The last week off they'd spent packing. They'd picked their house and were moving in a month. The buyer had accepted their offer and was eager to sell. They'd gotten a great deal on a three bedroom home in Summerlin. It all felt very natural.

The Friday before they were to go back to work Greg was scheduled to go for his first post-remission bone marrow tap. Greg hadn't said anything about Sara coming with him, so when the time came she was surprised that he'd assumed she would. Of course she did. She'd never seen one before, so he warned her ahead of time. It wasn't pretty, but it was fairly painless. Dr. Tracey and Sara had an animated discussion about Greg's new hair style, teasing only. Dr. Tracey secretly saw it as a good sign that he really was getting on with his life.

Reluctantly she brought up therapy. Dr. Tracey harbored a great deal of guilt for what had happened to both of them. Greg had assured her every chance he got that it wasn't her fault. That there was no way she could have known, but it did very little to relieve her feelings on the matter. She still had a list for him, ready if he was willing, with one or two in particular she thought would be a good fit. Greg agreed to take a look at it, but made no promises as far as actual sessions went.

On their first night back at work Greg thought he might have an anxiety attack. For some reason he was just that nervous. Maybe because he hadn't officially been in the field for so long or maybe because of recent events. He wasn't sure. Sara wasn't nervous, only excited. Greg had always enjoyed what he did, but never on the same level as Sara. Where he ate, she breathed. It was a necessity for her. He loved it about her, but couldn't quite understand.

They'd arrived early. Sara, eager to begin, tracked down Grissom to learn about the newest cases. Ones she could possibly be involved in. Having nothing else to do until the staff meeting began, Greg went in search of Amy.

"Hey stranger," she said as he came into the lab, smiling big at him.

"Lose a contact again?" he asked. She was in her glasses tonight.

"Nick knocked them into the sink," she replied, trying to look put out but failing.

"How's that going?" he asked, smiling back at her as he pulled up a chair.

Nick and Amy had never come out and told anyone they were dating, they hadn't had too. It was too obvious to put into words.

"Good," she grinned, "real good."

"Good," he said grinning back at her.

They both laughed at themselves. It was kind of a crazy moment. They were both ridiculously happy in relationships, having never expected to be.

"When's the moving party?" she asked casually, still checking results.

"Three weeks. As I understand it you and Sara will be supervising, or in other words, drinking margaritas."

"My kind of party," Amy replied with a smirk.

"Hey," Nick said from the doorway, "stop flirting with my girl. Time for the staff meeting."

"He ruins all my fun," Greg said with a wink, before getting up to go.

"Break at two?" Nick stayed behind to ask.

"You're buying?"

"Okay," he agreed, "but I pick the place then."

Amy gave him a grin indicating a yes, which he returned before heading down the hall in a hurry to catch up with Greg.

"It's you and me tonight," he said, tapping him on the shoulder.

"Oh great," Greg said with mock exasperation, "is it too late to go back to days?"

"Yeah, that's cute." Nick returned as they came into the break room.

Grissom was already there, waiting on them.

"Okay," he said as Greg shut the door behind him. "Now that we're all here, let's begin."

Greg smiled to himself, taking a seat near Sara, ready to go.

Glad to be home.

**The End**


End file.
